so stop stabbing the heron\u2019s belly,
\nas if repeated stabs will wake it from the flies.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
I mean what I say,
\nwhen I talk of permanence like permafrost<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
or ancient arteries of the earth\u2019s underbelly,
\nspilling from volcanic pores. A woman, did you hear?<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Crated homing pigeons
\nand biked them to a Tokyo market,<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
when her tire hit a rut in the road
\nand the cage fell loose. Nine birds died on impact,<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
while her most treasured, still alive
\nbut blinded by headlights,<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
hit a fender and blew open\u2014
\nfeathers falling like snow. For months,<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
the poor woman wore grief like a wet wool coat
\nand wept through the deadwind of winter. She\u2019d set the table
\neach evening for two. Wait for the backdoor to swing<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
and shut
\nand the sulfuric smell of sorrow to come in the kitchen to eat.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Tristessa<\/em>, she\u2019d whisper, <\/p>\n \u2014<\/p>\n <\/p>\n When I was a boy <\/p>\n layered it like glue <\/p>\n And though that tree numbed each wound, <\/p>\n I carried with me two things: <\/p>\n Many moons chafed into years of dissolution <\/p>\n For months, it ghosted an aroma so thick <\/p>\n and ran nude in the rain. Its fading ointment <\/p>\n \u2014<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Which leads me here with you, son.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n This heron, no different <\/p>\n with precision. It was effortless. Swooping <\/p>\n It\u2019s sick, I know, how Man manipulates beauty. <\/p>\n That storm coming close <\/p>\n High tide will swell and splash over the barriers <\/p>\n The poor will come collect their rations.<\/p>\n Wave hands toward thunder and praise it.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n I\u2019m asking whether you\u2019d like to keep gazing at records of lost time, so stop stabbing the heron’s belly . . . <\/p>\n","protected":false},"featured_media":3818,"template":"","categories":[9,49,119],"tags":[6,474,267,1129,440,1130],"class_list":["post-3815","article","type-article","status-publish","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-aquifer","category-literary-features","category-poetry","tag-aquifer-the-florida-review-online","tag-death","tag-fathers-and-sons","tag-luke-johnson","tag-parenthood","tag-this-is-what-it-looks-like-son"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\n
\nand the ghostly girl locked behind thick black bangs
\nwould look to her left and say nothing.<\/p>\n
\nI had a habit of carelessly sloughing bark
\nfrom a Eucalyptus. I loved its salve and<\/p>\n
\nover every burn left by my father\u2019s lighter.<\/p>\n
\nresulting in an able-bodied boy, one who\u2019d go on
\nto live like most other boys,<\/p>\n
\nscars without witness and the tree\u2019s sick tinder.<\/p>\n
\nand worms hollowed its core. Violent winds blew.
\nThe old tree tilted, fell loose from soil, then split in half.<\/p>\n
\nthe fallow fields became places to pray, rub wounds
\nand feel cleansed. I felt cleansed. Opened my mouth<\/p>\n
\ncoating my throat and my tongue.<\/p>\n
\nthan the three dozen floating out over the estuary,
\nwas once a winged creature maneuvering winds<\/p>\n
\nsoft beach for sand dabs then arrowing back toward light.<\/p>\n
\nBut listen, son, listen: I\u2019m asking you
\nto set the weapon down and look toward ocean.<\/p>\n
\nis big enough to rip this beach from coastline and swallow it.<\/p>\n
\nbuilt to guard the street. Perch will fill medians like manna.<\/p>\n
\nor undress and wade these choppy waters,
\nour bodies weightless as breath.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"