for my father
You were kind if only to pretend
like you felt nothing
of my lunch spit-splat-
hitting your cheek.
I’m gay, the question mark said
before straightening into exclamation.
Will you ever be able to see past
what I am to who I mean?
A decade later & I still remember
what bucked then as still bucking
on every word. My geh kicking up
cornbread from behind my throat’s
Still, however slight, there I am
at least one-thousandth,
at least a shred of color,
a pre-evolutionary kind of kiss—
as mighty in my mind as
the Falcon X Full Thrust launching
from Cape Canaveral this morning
like a dash absconding its page.
But, so far from us both,
I can’t imagine how the rocket
dealt with the gravity of its distance—
mulled over what it meant
to throw itself out there.
To leave a curved scar
the width of multiple skies
across Earth’s blue
& commemorative cheek.
Read more from Issue No. 15 or share on Facebook and Twitter.