appealing

The Maynard
Fall 2019

John Sibley Williams
0:00
 
 

Not really a father,

what we want is something to slip our cold hands into.

Like a woolen mitten. Like the earth. Like the recently killed

when the rest of the deer have long gone stiff. We’re really asking

for something to believe in we can’t disprove, prove or answer back to. Like

the time it takes a star to burst. Like the distance light travels to find us here

already lit. What my mother meant to say in saying there is a light that hurts

no matter how long you’ve looked for it, prayed it near,

is anyone’s guess, though in that late & last hour, when her skin felt like

the insides of a fish & her words curled up at the ends into questions, I took her to

mean son, not all your sufferings require nails.