I heard that your mom died
And that you have a kid of your own now
They told me that you had him when you were seventeen
He must be about eight now, I guess.
It’s funny, but I still think about us
Like when we were under that blanket
Back in your grandmother’s Victorian up the block.
I suppose I should have apologized
Like the Turks for Smyrna
Or the British for Dresden
But as I watched it cover your blonde mane
And saw it drip down onto your gold-rimmed glasses
It was never my intention to leave any work of art intact.
Alfonso Colasuonno is a Brooklyn, NY-based writer of poetry and fiction. He is the founder and publisher of The Adept Writer, a literary journal/website built on the promise of helping emerging writers gain exposure. Alfonso’s work has been featured in The Camel Saloon, Dead Snakes, Citizens for Decent Literature, and Quail Bell Magazine, among other publications.