I

Light rises like steam from the bond between us.

So thick, so ample in girth is this rope
tying us together, bonding us at the hip,
we who stand separated by half a continent.

That corded hemp cuts through my skin.
I bleed green sap, the exoskeleton of my distance
rent from the force of your knot.

I was a grasshopper calmly feasting
on mites before the arachnid’s den,
I couldn’t know you lay in wait for me,
you who hid in your cave constructed
of dark-skinned intimidation, of hooded love.

Now, awakened, the twisted cord moans
and squeaks, the fibers contracting,
our coupling forced through its birth-canal.

Our love, mother, wife, holds us together, apart.

II

Cut short, green, like the rough
just off the fairway
of this championship course,
our cocks intertwine in the true
incarnation of patriarchal lineage.

This is a game of solitude,
striking the ball viciously
like a landowner slaps the serf,
but you, you are psychiatrist,
psychologist, therapist, pathologist.

Not enough to compete alone,
like a hurricane you lift up the sea,
throw it across the land, spill
your waterway over my bridge,
conquer your son’s confidence.

The serf hasn’t yet risen up,
scythe in hand, to disembowel the petty lord’s
pretense of power and privilege:
vanquished, I play eunuch, impotent
in order that his semen might remain.

III

Now your cough rattles my ears
like an earthquake drops glass.
How long shall the world
continue to shake for you
O mighty Zeus, spent from
the years of your youth?

Your phlegm reaches up,
grabs my throat,
chokes its way into my bowels.

I grew up in love with broken things,
displaced fear, misplaced love.

Your lungs wheeze loud,
my testicles ache,
unborn heirs clamoring.

Your cough shakes the foundation
of my mother’s description,
my brother’s failure, my own
flagellation. Tell me, father, how
shall we continue without the
definition that names us?