123 – Land of Enchantment

Land of Enchantment

Wine trips a switch,
turns on the gene
my grandfather begat
my uncle and I
before he died.
Brain cancer.

Years later:
he raging incoherent
in the middle of the night;
me a sad little mollusk
on the phone, afraid
he’ll find us, smash
down the door. Monster
I never knew. I swore: never.

Now a tannic bloom a tumor
at my chest, creeps
up my neck. Keeps me
company. Soft sway
if I stand too quick crash
to sleep & wake early
without dreaming
of monsters or men.

They’re gone now. One
to the Land of Enchantment,
or Denver, San Francisco, Michigan,
who knows; Grandpa buried
with the horses. I drink
to remember the blood
I don’t know, to forget
the blood I am.

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