The Parent Tree

 [Poetry], The Cabana at the Equator  Comments Off on The Parent Tree
Aug 262011
 
It was in singing that he first 
Knew that worsening was not worst.
His father's large disappointed face 
Tickled him inarticulate with terror 
Until he forged, 
Below sharp time, 
Monster suns of images. 

Invented heaven has a charm: litter
Of apostles, magenta trees that dissolve 
As vapor, where golden sparrows sing 
And do not sink. He thought 
One wanted seeming, 
An altered 
Strangled attitude of bird. 

A harsh man's countenance wavered 
In ocean distortions of the moon. 
The kneeling son felt a burning prayer 
At his back, and ran, and ran 
In stark fright 
On broken bones 
Beneath a salt-dead tree.