If he could climb,
he'd just play in the dirt.
No concern for the girl
in the pretty pink skirt.
Oblivious as his father's blood boils.
Mysterious this wet soil.
Wonder his greatest possession.
Force fed lessons about direction.
Hand slips from the jungle gym.
Hard smack and some broken skin.
Pain,
Confusion,
Fear in his eyes.
Chastised as he began to cry.
Ran to Mother's arms making room.
Grandmother kissed and rubbed the wounds.
If he could swim,
he'd stay up for air.
Tightened trunks
and tied back his hair.
Floatables.
Only one pair.
Advised by Mother to take care.
Skipped the line and forced a turn.
Forgot the goggles and his eyes burn.
Kept the towel.
Asked him what he'd learned.
Young but noting
Dad's lack of concern.
Concentration on the task at hand.
Flinching after every raised hand.
Old fashioned method to this plan.
Determined to raise the perfect man.
If he could drive,
he'd decide to walk instead.
Layers of anxiety
strewn about his head.
Father's threats breathing down his neck.
He's just trying not to end up dead.
Eyes swollen.
Turning red.
Can't remember all that was said.
He hit the brakes in a turning lane.
Red lights he would speed through.
He can't breathe.
Dad intercedes.
A myriad of mistakes to see through.
Time treated like an excuse requested.
No acknowledgement of patience neglected.
Their relationship a prism reflective
of the frustrated
and the dejected.
If he could cry,
he would do the same.
Flashbacks
when they'd call his name.
Furthest corner in a dark room.
Composed himself.
They'll be back soon.
Traded warm milk for sour mash.
Haunting repression of the past
where boys don't cry
and men still choose
to hold on to it
and ignore all cues:
Recusing himself from a reality
where excusing oneself is no travesty
and needing some help is formality.
Forced Masculinity Is True Tragedy.
Written By: Devin Joseph Metz
he'd stay up for air.
Tightened trunks
and tied back his hair.
Floatables.
Only one pair.
Advised by Mother to take care.
Skipped the line and forced a turn.
Forgot the goggles and his eyes burn.
Kept the towel.
Asked him what he'd learned.
Young but noting
Dad's lack of concern.
Concentration on the task at hand.
Flinching after every raised hand.
Old fashioned method to this plan.
Determined to raise the perfect man.
If he could drive,
he'd decide to walk instead.
Layers of anxiety
strewn about his head.
Father's threats breathing down his neck.
He's just trying not to end up dead.
Eyes swollen.
Turning red.
Can't remember all that was said.
He hit the brakes in a turning lane.
Red lights he would speed through.
He can't breathe.
Dad intercedes.
A myriad of mistakes to see through.
Time treated like an excuse requested.
No acknowledgement of patience neglected.
Their relationship a prism reflective
of the frustrated
and the dejected.
If he could cry,
he would do the same.
Flashbacks
when they'd call his name.
Furthest corner in a dark room.
Composed himself.
They'll be back soon.
Traded warm milk for sour mash.
Haunting repression of the past
where boys don't cry
and men still choose
to hold on to it
and ignore all cues:
Recusing himself from a reality
where excusing oneself is no travesty
and needing some help is formality.
Forced Masculinity Is True Tragedy.
Written By: Devin Joseph Metz
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