Against Tradition
each day I know if I do not kiss
the dirt after walking on it I become
my father am I I am my father
I am my father’s son he sits in a chair
by the lake in front of his house
watching the water gather the dark
and I know there is no sadness
like his sadness he lets it turn to anger
a rock he ties to his neck his mouth
full of dirt a gift from his own father
who taught him his temper like
a wildfire father I do not turn into
your driveway tonight I watch
my headlights cut the dark like water
Header photo by Andrei Baskevich, courtesy Shutterstock. Photo of William Fargason by Colby Blackwill.