poetry
look at me when I talk to you
real men make eye contact
words from the lips of a demigod
architect of wars
predator of the lowest and weakest common denominators, Father
why have you forsaken me
a causality of the Nine Realms
Frigga, Queen of Asgard, could not mend the brokenhearted or bind up their wounds
The Allfather, Odin of death and shadows
scolding resentful bitter perhaps
I was not worthy of his love, God
I just needed to make this declaration of truth
if I am to be his son how do I reconcile
with a father who has never shown love
never attended chess tournaments, baseball games, art exhibitions
never offered the wisdom of family history
never ever tucked me in
never read poetry, comics, or watch cartoons with me
never embraced me with words of advice, consultation, affirmation
never accepted nerdy
me, the by-product of a doomed relationship
unequally yoked
righteous love
righteous indignation
who stood in opposition
of my mother’s compassion
an offering of prayers and petitions
tears of Saint Monica
no son of mine will be weak
James Author Bethune
whose ego has consumed self and others
whose impulsive nature is chaos in the flesh
whose demons are my demons
whose lust is my lust
Father—a word that reflects distance
I resist the temptation of mead
as an attempt to claim sanity
I despise drinking alone to ease the pain
flesh seems to be an easier option —
I desire to be worthy of Mjolnir
yet, I bear the same stripes of my father’s father
look at me when I talk to you
real men make eye contact