tryna have a debate on facebook
folks can grow from’s like climbing a barbed wire ladder
twitter on the other hand
involves bathing in combustible liquid
playing with matches and pumping gasoline
while handling snakes
the truth is everyone’s a tumbler
and we disappear in a snap
a dog curls its body into mine
his fur is itchy against my bare legs
but his warmth grounds me
he rests his head on his one white paw
and his tongue hangs out
I run my hand through his short hair
and feel the muscles beneath it quiver
He moves up towards my face and begins licking,
with his dried out tongue
it’s been a year since I had one of my own
and looking into her brother’s face
I can feel her in my great cloud of witnesses
looking down and wagging her tail
You can burn your hatred
Watch it go up in flames
You can put an end to it
With fire and needles
With love
You can learn and I won’t judge
No matter how old you are
How you were raised
You can unlearn it now
You can grow now
I’ll help if you need
You can get out that gallon of paint
And start fresh
You can get a new hood for your
Little S-10
Go ahead, ask questions, it’s okay
Years later, you’ll say,
“How could I ever hate a person
Just because of the color of their skin?”
And it will sicken you
But you can change right now
With just a few supplies
First, go get that gas can
I fell into your eyes.
Found myself running through
Tall grass, blades stinging my legs
Fresh dew clinging to my toes
Hopped from one flat rock to another
Pond still sleeping, a blanket of moss
Warming the algae tucked below
Startled by the pop, pop, pop of
Miniature forest colored frogs
Throwing themselves into the water
Tip-toed between bundles of
Reed grass standing at attention
Enormous grasshopper saluting
Nostrils flaring wide with the
Scent of damp pine needles now
Creeping into the warm air
Dropped to the ground under the
Canopy of stately Jack Pine
Flat on my back to watch the wind
I fell into your eyes.
Your green eyes.
I don’t want to keep anything from you
and
I don’t want
to keep anything
from you
I’ve been having a hard time saying how I feel lately
and an inherited then learned mistrust ads up
gutless wonder, suspected poser
of all feeling
I don’t want to keep anything from you but
do you even want any of it?
Then there’s that memory where
I don’t want to keep
anything
from: you
Do I need to try again here?
Am I missing something everyone else sees?
Feels like it
but then it doesn’t
I don’t want to keep anything from you
I don’t want to
I don’t.
Everyone comes from somewhere.
You learned
to shut people out,
and I to weep for your loss.
Entering the world
as a blank slate—your parents
bound to fill
every inch. You learned
to mock others
and I to turn my cheek.
Last night we put
our practices to use.
You sent one wicked message
and I melted lifeless
on the couch.
They say “you’ll never be ready”
The flood gates have opened
And the water that once barley trickled now gushes violently
I know I’ll be over my head
But I’ve always been a strong swimmer
And as I wait for the water to rise
I remind myself as of now
I’m fine
“Just kidding, NSA!” I whisper
into my iPhone speaker
Every time I send up a prayer
disguised as a joke
About regicide.
The Family of The River
We ran ferries
trapped
and hunted
on this river.
We poled john boats
strung trot lines
and gigged frogs
on this river.
We stood on banks
eroded by time
and watched history
pass by.
Then…
we moved
to the factories
and farms…
spread out to Ohio
and far away places.
Still
every now and then
we met
reunited
on this river.
Wars and worries
killed us off.
People and places
distracted us
and soon
there was only memories
floating
on this river.
Generations
gapped and sagged
until…
we lost touch
until…
we no longer knew each other.
Brothers and sisters
fought over relics
who’s meaning and memory
were quickly lost
to the bickering
and anger.
But some…
a few
kept the vigil
held firm
to the hope that
no matter how distant
or how angry
some were
we would still
be family.
We would always remember
ferries and frogs
john boats and catfish
family and friend.
Some knew
there is a bond…
an earthy clay…
that holds this family together
and while the waters of time
wash by
we will remain
the family
who ran ferries
on this river.
Tony Sexton
