Somebody’s father

He knows despairs’ colors:

Monochrome, ghastly,

the brilliant face

a rather strange grey.

This is a surreal setting,

the one that he sees, not

making out a thing

but what’s behind his own

eyes.

 

The story’s all there.

You can see it, a glass clear

fever where heat waves waver

on a day actually overcast.

This is evident.

He’s got on a raincoat, dark

business suit & tie.

The coat also is made of

several shades, terribly bright,

Mourning making a Frankenstein.

 

He stands before a doorway.

There’s a watching priest & saluting guns.

He clutches a flag.  The stars, silver,

they as well are just way too shiny.

 

 

By Stephen Mead