Polar Split

I find bits of my son
dribbled like stains across
the basement floor
where he broke in half
in front of me
him already a redwood
at age fifteen
bark and wood splitting
hot shards shooting everywhere
as if thunderstruck
the swell of young boy tears
drowning the two of us with
its shrill chorus
his manic pacing a
Dali metronome
gone haywire
gone off the rails
gone off off off again
and me so small that day
a pimple a nub
an empty beetle
skittering nowhere
needing answers fast or
a life line to lend
but only able to hold
the shuddering jangle of him
tight in my arms
saying, “Bay, Bay, it’s okay.
That wasn’t you.
It was someone else.”

Len Kuntz is a writer from Washington State and the author of four books, most recently the story collection, This is Why I Need You, out now from Ravenna Press. You can find more of his writing at https://lenkuntz.blogspot.com.

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