Father’s Day

He woke up bleary eyed,

wiping dreams off

stunted eyelashes

Craving volatile alkaloids

in Ascension, leaving the

less worthy behind 

in dark tarry pools,

much like

Dreams of dinosaurs 

trapped in mud

Work calls early, and amidst 

flashes of blue comes 

Another father on this

Special day, set aside 

for spikes in sales 

of greeting cards and 

shaving foam

That horse oft flogged 

was flagging, but we tried 

our best available magic,

donned in Royal Blue,

Concocting potions, powders,

poultices, and balm for the brain

But this horse had bolted

And despite mechanised

arms pounding a pound 

of mindless flesh 

with unrestrained brutality,

we failed, 

Our Collective Fatherhood watched

one of its own

drift up - perhaps

a better alkaloid 

in Ascension, leaving

dark muddy ones behind

A lonely cloud wandered home

battered, but not like 

that horse we flogged

endlessly, now lying

panting and broken 

in a ditch between two bellows

meant for air and laughter,

filled to the brim with blood

The door opened to a promise

of giggles and impish grins

Monsters strictly banished to

the outside, where they 

wait for another day 

while an unworthy father 

is swamped in hugs

and painstakingly poorly drawn

glittered cards brimming with

Promises of Love to keep me

sane in my loneliness as

I fight unresolved guilt

and justify my existence

for yet another day,

when Fathers matter less 

whether Dead 

or Alive