Sean L. Corbin
At first we only knew
At first we only knew that
you were breathing on land
the way a fish breathes in water
which is to say in a wet way
a drowning way a salted
thick way a way you were
never meant to breathe and
we worried of course we worried
for your health but never saw
the shadow of the hook
dangling above us its tip barbed
its spine curved its line unbreakable
we only knew the sounds
of the waves in your chest
~
You painted cars
You painted cars for two-plus
decades you sealed their cracks
and gave them a sheen a spark a
glisten you were always willing
to listen to my problems to
my fuck-ups and then take them
with you into the factory
like a personal iPod and
ruminate for hours for days
as your hand swept back and
forth in the same motion
every ninety seconds a monotony
every ninety seconds a litany
of movement as you painted
over what ailed me in your
mind and filled my cracks with
music I would only sometimes hear
~
Is that a snore or a gasp
Is that a snore or a gasp
for oxygen I cannot tell without
crawling inside your chest tapping
the tumor on its shoulder
and asking it how it breathes
through so much ash I’ll do that
if you wish I’ll pull apart
your ribcage just to get an answer
from that fucker that sneak thief
that pocket of grey fangs
~
You missed it Father
You missed it Father you missed
the end of the world they’re
calling it an apocalypse
they’re calling it Death
By Trump you were in bed
when the results came in
you were breathing the smoky
medicine in and out in
and out in short sucks
and wheezes and afterward
you were calmer you seemed
to be in better spirits even
as the pain racked your bones
even as the cancer kept
eating you alive and maybe
we should all take breathing
treatments in and out and
everyone could breathe everyone
could lie back and take a
moment to reflect on what
matters between the burning
man heading for the white house
and the dying man in ours
~
Without you here there is only
Without you here there is only
a dense fog through which is
no vision no distance no movement
without you there is a lack of light
at midnight a lack of taste at family
dinners a lack of sound during
Sunday football games without you
there is no safety net no life
preserver no rope ladder to heaven
without you I find that there is only
cold air and rain only silence
and chipped stone walls only an
empty sucking sensation inside
my stomach as if I am consuming myself
~
~return to poetry home