By: Anonymous
there’s a pastor
pilgrimed
since an altar boy
dead-set in his piety
until forever after death
he watches
two planes
meet two towers
his faith grounded
like lightning to a dove
there’s a farmhand
just like his father
and his before
pick any rural nothing
town and it’s all he’s ever known
a legacy so steadfast
toppled
like a seed-stuffed silo
by his clumsiest
first note on a saxophone
there’s a kid
although he prefers teen
a parental perfect ten
piano lesson pressurized
schedule since age seven
his post-post-secondary roadmap
detonated
he puts his first nose
to his first bill
to his first phone case