the shape of a soul
barely fills this one
the bathtub too
Malfunction is a term for
Cracked bones, empty pockets
No facades, family man
soft fists, help
how do you tell him?
keep a manual
the laughter stuck to the sides
his cut wrist
Is god crying.
My father laughs
In it I hear the sound of sand and gravel pouring into an unfillable hole,
bouncing while scrapping it’s sides and falling into darkness
This is not how I was taught to laugh
but this is also okay because now, I have learnt that I am an in-between
I tie the seams that come undone
and with fire, singe the threads that hang from his wrapper
I am a remainder,
vestige of a mock god.