Gory Glory

a recent poem

To raise a boy into a man 
When one is 
But
Yet
Only 
Indeed! 
A woman 

Is to swim against the wake to an island constructed on rumor
Where there are sharks nipping at her ankles 
And there are lava rocks across the ocean floor 

To attempt to guide the boy away from the well worn 
Treads of men that came before 
Where the paths all end in 
War
Booze
Pain 

How does She tell these boys 
To walk new walks
Be visionaries, be different 

When she, herself, has always played it safe:
Be small. Be safe. 
Stay in line. 
Keep sweet. 
Keep quiet. 
Or the worst—
Do not be selfish. 

She can turn herself out, 
Cut her stomach open and 
Show her precious sons what 
She is made of—
Their blood is her blood
Their hearts are her hearts