Dreams

by Azul

mowing the lawn, you're American now

that God has spared you from the sea.

a father in motion is uncertain physics

the way his knuckles lick their gloaming brine

the way I used to during basketball practice

when you used to believe I was your only son.

that I pierced through your wooden teeth

& found infinity's parasite split dark & ocean

stabbed by lighting cried the salt echoed night.

that there was a wound named sound

drowning in meaning begging for an ear

to kiss your chest goodnight.

that after your ten hour shifts at the warehouse

I'm given back a father, emptied

like my hands when you reach out and say:

my son my son, here is America.

& over there is the hoop.