no wonder my father was an ogre by Rob Plath

my father’s stepfather
used to stab his hand
w/a fork if my father
reached across for something
at the dinner table
w/o asking first

my father never met
his real father
my grandmother divorced
him when my father
was one years old
b/c she found out he
was married to two
women at once
no-one saw him after

first the black vacuum
of absence

then the sharp
prongs of presence

the double yoke of
nothingness & blood


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