In the
Bedroom of
A dark
Apartment
My father
Rests
Wearing
Yesterday’s
Apparatus-
His breaths
Blatantly blow
Blasts of
Alcohol
Onto a
Drool stained
Pillow.
One small
Secondhand football
In the
Corner
(Perched beside
A pitiful pile of
Pornography)
Gather’s dust
In the
Focused
Sunlight.
A pale
child
Sits on
A shredded
Sofa, playing
Video games
To stimulate
The simulations
Of a family
Repaired.
Morning light
Erodes
The footballs
Arched body-
Dust
Digs deep
Within it’s
Tapered flesh
If one
Vociferous
Idea had
Veered into
My heart,
Let it be:
Judge
A man by where
He keeps his
Dust.
Lazarus Knix
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/dust-40/
