Two Silences

Fathers, like prisons, cage me—
Iron gulls stitching pages
Silently, raging sagely
Sighs on calls from distances
Appalling, hidden plainly—

“Father, try list’nin’, maybe.
I’ll indulge ‘this thing’, dange’rous
It may be, feigning safety,
Lies and all; some ‘promises’
Are all unwritten lately.”

“Here I am—aid me, abate me—play the
Way of the Fool and journey to the cliff
Where every man faces his danger;
Maybe then you’ll lay with me,” sigh pontiffs.

Hierophants and heroes flaunt
Wor(l)ds of weariness upon
Roads of roses open on
Dashboards, whose celebrants want
To drive souls to open arms;

Their slow marching mirrors dawn—
Sherds of fearlessness fallen,
Those corrosive omens drawn
Towards bruises—they dance on;
Survivals, too sharp, can harm.

“I’ll fly, then—pray the opaque sea waves free
The air of all and ev’ry truth adrift
There—ev’ry man faced with his legacy
Sees only himself and two silences.”