For A Fatherless Son

You will be aware of an absence, presently,

Growing beside you, like a tree,

A death tree, color gone, an Australian gum tree —-

Balding, gelded by lightning—an illusion,

And a sky like a pig's backside, an utter lack of attention.

But right now you are dumb.

And I love your stupidity,

The blind mirror of it. I look in

And find no face but my own, and you think that's funny.

It is good for me

To have you grab my nose, a ladder rung.

One day you may touch what's wrong —-

The small skulls, the smashed blue hills, the godawful hush.

Till then your smiles are found money.