things my son should know after I've died

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I was young once. I dug holes

near a canal and almost drowned.

I filled notebooks with words

as carefully as a hunter loads his shotgun.

I had a father also, and I came second to an addiction.

I spent a summer swallowing seeds

and nothing ever grew in my stomach.

Every woman I kissed,

I kissed as if I loved her.

My left and right hands were rivals.

After I hit puberty, I was kicked out of my parents’ house

at least twice a year. No matter when you receive this

there was music playing now.

Your grandfather isn’t

my father. I chose to do something with my life

that I knew I could fail at.

I spent my whole life walking

and hid such colorful wings.

–Brian Trimboli
from Rattle #29

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