the good father

the good father
the one who doesn't blacken the blue of the eye
who doesn't prophesy prison for his progeny
who doesn't walk away with hearts in one hand
and bleeding knife in the other
who doesn't take mothers humanity from her vagina
and from within her breast and smear it all over the bathroom floor
to make the kids eat it with their oatmeal
who understands the babysitter is off limits
is not his fucktoy

the good father
who doesn't destroy the faith of a five year old
and the heart of a ten year old
with his razor tongue and racist wit
who is home when need be
has hand out when knees are skinned
heart out when souls are skinned

the good father
the one who says please
and thank you even though you're three feet tall
who keeps erections within the marriage bed where it fucking belongs
who never uses the word niggerspickikewopwetbacktowelheaduselessfuckingkid

even in jest

the good father
who never sits in the pew with bible in hand and pussy in mind
never offers sons up to the alter of hatred
and never spills the blood of the innocent with thin strips of leather and buckles

the good father



i lay alone in bed, 3 am
covers around my chin, wife asleep with the my Pinguino snuggled close 
visions of Woody and Buzz and Dora and Boots and Wall-e and Eva
dancing in his dreams
next to sliding pucks
and Skinner's magic and Brindamour still in his sweater

i lay and wonder
and sniffle
and wipe that fucking wetness from my face
and swallow hard
and will it away

and I slide into fitful sleep
never knowing
if

I

can


be


the good father