a year without light
Adult Bread
Scrubbing Daddy with a knife will only enflame the situation.
The agency of soap is sweets. Alone, take a coin to the face
and rinse your teeth out with the brick water of a wave.
You love me-you know it, is etched in the atmosphere.
A blanket with fireflies lodged in the creases.
A healthy gash on my chin materializes, leaves me
woozy under a steady stream of sandy towels,
face pain aftershocks, and deep panic air spat from my lungs.
In the palm of the preface to the very pulse of the enemy there
is a sudden death of father muscle, her beefy arms and muted exterior:
because I'm the mommy that's why.
-Todd Colby