Gewitterbildung | a poem

dead men keep me company

in the spirits of the living

*

I transform in their hands

I collapse in the rooms they’re in

arms so long

reach out to me

flesh wound

bloodbound

*

you cursed I have no son

I have no son

*

when you still had a son

when he was still alive

you screeched I have no son

my son is dead

dead to me

you hollered

*

and he embraced death

and replied my father is dead to me

I have no father

my father is a lost cause

*

and you wanted him back

your son

once he was dead

*

I want him back

my dead son

*

you can’t say it

your voice is dead

requiem

*

but you want him alive now

you want to raise him from the dead

now that he’s gone

now that he has become

what you cursed him to be

*

oh, what did you hammer into your children’s ears so viciously