the news of your father’s death?
was your father killed
for telling the truth?
knifed out behind one of his
favorite bars towards the
end of November?
and maybe he never
really liked you
maybe you were an accident,
a weight,
a pair of crippled hands reaching up
from a vast expanse of bottomless water,
and the truth matters,
of course,
but the truth is only a
blurred photograph of ghosts caught
in the act of turning away
the truth is history told by
those who survive it,
and so maybe i’m a liar
maybe i had no reason
to come here
opened my door
one dull grey morning and
just started running
John Sweet sends greetings from the rural wastelands of upstate NY. His latest poetry collections include A FLAG ON FIRE IS A SONG OF HOPE (2019 Scars Publications) and A DEAD MAN, EITHER WAY (2020 Kung Fu Treachery Press).
Enjoyed your poem. Read it from my hovel in the damp woodlands of upstate New York. Horror is ever present here and that is one good thing about my banishment.
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