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Brently JohnsonThe Artist’s FatherIn the moments between watching my son and thinking what a fine poem it would make he’s added a purple squirm of a tail as well as a fifth leg, Is the poem’s value that preserves a moment in time And before I can answer, he says this is for grandad— the particulars a four-year-old can’t possibly understand, the prized metaphor I don’t even have to work for: And I want to get it down before my memory slips from the room, with nothing to document that I was a good father, an above-average writer Now, at a table spilled with markers, he wants help with the mouth, I jump at the chance just so we can finish the damn thing
Return to Volume 5.2 |
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