Father

There was never a shortening for you. With you, my language is stilted and dead; It breathes a caution, a life unspoken - A life riding shotgun and chatting blanks; I levied no fire, assaulted nothing. In hope, I clenched thebullets tightly within me, stayedyour execution - "I built bridges in Bosnia", you'd say as if it was incidental; I'd gawp - No shortenings, no lengthenings, nothing. Inscrutable, like the strongest statue, the Colossus no earthquakes could shatter - the dad I never really laid claim to. --- There was never a shortening for you. With you, my language is stilted and dead; It breathes a caution, a life unspoken - A life riding shotgun and chatting blanks; I levied no fire, assaulted nothing. Instead, I felt the dull drawn ache of guilt the nameless guilt you'd find pretentious. "I built bridges in Bosnia", you'd say as if it was incidental; I'd gawp - No shortenings, no lengthenings, nothing. Inscrutable, like the strongest statue, the Colossus no earthquakes could shatter - the dad I never really laid claim to.