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| Mikuláš Galanda, "Family" (1930-1932) |
on the phone from prison my father asks
if i am happy. every conversation
yields the same weight. how can i say
that i'm not, that i take everything
for granted while he stays frozen
in plexiglass through his life
and the next. i kill him
over and over again in my poems, write
the eulogy, mourn loud and send his body
to the lake. while he is alive i cannot
speak to him normally, a tooth shocking
in absence. i will always tell him
that i'm the best i've ever been.
Lily Someson. Columbia Poetry Review, no. 32, Spring 2019. Chicago: Columbia College Chicago.
