[stanza][lineate]I[/lineate]
[stanza][lineate]Once my mother told me[/lineate]
[lineate]I should be grateful[/lineate]
[lineate]not to have[/lineate]
[lineate]a father.[/lineate]
[stanza][lineate]Here, still[/lineate]
[lineate]against the bobbing of blooming[/lineate]
[lineate]lily pads, I find myself[/lineate]
[stanza][lineate]surrounded in the loud solitude[/lineate]
[lineate]of squealing birds and young children.[/lineate]
[stanza][lineate]We are all hungry for different things.[/lineate]
[stanza][lineate]II[/lineate]
[stanza][lineate]A child looks across the lake.[/lineate]
[lineate indent=3]Ducklings floating[/lineate]
[lineate]toward a piece of bread near[/lineate]
[lineate]the deepest point.[/lineate]
[stanza][lineate]His mother[/lineate]
[lineate]preoccupied with her phone call,[/lineate]
[lineate]doesn’t wipe the drool[/lineate]
[lineate]from his chin — or scoop him[/lineate]
[lineate]up when he comes close[/lineate]
[lineate]to the edge of the water.[/lineate]
[stanza][lineate]III[/lineate]
[stanza][lineate]When my father finally[/lineate]
[lineate]over-doses nobody will find him—[/lineate]
[lineate]body rolling cold on his floor.[/lineate]
[stanza][lineate]IV[/lineate]
[stanza][lineate]Who can grieve, now?[/lineate]
[stanza][lineate indent=3]Whether the death of their child, not[/lineate]
[lineate]yet born —[/lineate]
[lineate]Or their father, still[/lineate]
[lineate indent=3]alive.[/lineate]
[stanza][lineate]V[/lineate]
[stanza][lineate]Still on the water, the ducks[/lineate]
[lineate]have rested — bobbing listlessly[/lineate]
[lineate]among litter.[/lineate]
[stanza][lineate]Soggy white bread sinks[/lineate]
[lineate]to the bottom of the lake.[/lineate]
[stanza][lineate]VI[/lineate]
[stanza][lineate]A man emerges, from the woods —[/lineate]
[lineate]child-less,[/lineate]
[lineate indent=3]holding a camera in his unmarked left hand.[/lineate]
[stanza][lineate]In the only picture of us,[/lineate]
[lineate indent=3]my father is freshly married, one hand[/lineate]
[lineate]on his plump bride. One on my sister, who is smiling.[/lineate]
[lineate indent=3]Fresh pink flowering on my pre-pubescent body.[/lineate]
[stanza][lineate]VII[/lineate]
[stanza][lineate]I can remember a time[/lineate]
[lineate]my father pulled me onto his shoulders[/lineate]
[lineate]telling me[/lineate]
[lineate indent=3]Everyone will hurt[/lineate]
[lineate] you. Don’t forget that.[/lineate]
Alexis Groulx’s work has been previously published, or is forthcoming in Ayris, After the Pause, Blue Lyra Review, Gravel, Off the Coast, Smoky Quartz, and Sun & Sandstone. She lives in New Hampshire.