Father, Father...

Who can love anger?

I destroyed childhood toy castles,

as my father did his own.

He was my best friend,

until his canines were sharp in the side of my neck.

A lone wolf, killing its cub.

I am nothing but broken pieces,

and as I hold my child I could never imagine

shredding the bloom of the seed you sowed.

I still feel it deep in my bones,

hammering like he did the door when drunk.

I wish to pierce holes in you,

as he did switchblades to drywall.

But I know I cannot. I can never be so angry to kill a child's soul.

But I hug him with loose arms, and I absorb his warmth and tears to the crown of my head he used to kiss.

I forgive him as a child,

but I will never forgive being a fear-soaked child, shaking and stripped of a father.