Gris-Gris, an online journal of literature, culture & the arts

Handsome Is

by Donika Ross Kelly

In the dream, my father hides inside
another man’s body.
+++++++++++++++I know him
by his hands. But how am I child?
And this wall against my back, how long
has it been a wall? My father follows
me. Handsome as a close friend,
a tree in bloom.
I build a room to hold him.
He picks all the locks. I scream.
+++++++++++++++Don’t scream.
I run. Stand still. I am a forest,
a field. I crumble and shift. I wake,
my breath deep inside the earth.