by C. Dylan Bassett
1.
As boys, we watched stars—
little boxes
collecting space
2.
Father, you sent flies
to heal.
No more bread
in the wind-breadth.
All that honey run dry.
It takes a while
for a child
to know the noise
of his name—
a language without
tone or tongue.
3.
Forgive me,
I did not know that
then we were dropping
little stones
where now
we must climb
to get back home.
