Blue Bonnet Review

A Literary Journal Featuring Poetry, Fiction and Nonfiction by Talented Writers Around the Globe

A literary journal featuring poetry, fiction and nonfiction by writers around the globe. 

November Father

Susan Niz

The tree swallowed it whole in slow motion
The railroad spike wedged in pulpy flesh

My november father stooped to retrieve a railroad spike
Rusted and bent, discarded by the track

Where bark splits, a wound forms
My november father guided his hand to opportune violation

Each year, my november father and my november brother
Witnessed the eventual consumption of iron by wood

Where tracks drew paths for the aimless
A playful stabbing, a silent scream

One december father,
Three years after they stripped him to the spine

Strummed the exposed cord
Left him, as a tree that fell in a storm

My second daughter grew in my fleshy drum
Dropping low, nearly ready to dive into the mad world,

Swallow the stones of her inheritance
Tremble in warm papery flesh

Hold on and inhabit newness
Blood coursing through her veins

But december father, fevers spike

Black soil rattles, then stills
Below roots, memorial trees

I fold and fold the thanksgiving tablecloth
What clings in the folds remains