The Black Napkin Volume 1 Issue 6 | Page 12

8

Acme Surrogate Fathers

1.

I need a way out, but the goddamn doorknob

has a stronger will than my fingers. Listen:

I'm not the one who killed the sky, but I will damned

well smoke its corpse. I just need a pin 

so I can poke some holes in this Coke can.

Splinter under my tongue, woodlice

muddying up my virginal corpse,

I'm not the one who told your true 

father what you said about his mustache 

collection, but now that I've got your attention: 

don't forget to take your vitamins. The water 

table needs the nutrients.

 

I’m higher than a weather balloon,

although I'm sprawled in the gutter.

I’ve lost control over my limbs,

and don't get me started on my hair, 

but I call this escape. It's not the kind of door

you can close behind you. It's the kind

you paint on a wall to fool the tourists.  

 

2.

I never knew my surreal father, but 

the smell of his shadow settled over

my bed each night when I tried

to fly, always watching to make sure

my ankle was securely tethered.

It wasn't his fault. He also wanted

to break free, but all his hands could do

was braid. And once you've got a rope,

what else can you do but tie things down,

or hang things up, or ask questions

you don't want answered.  

 

Illustration by Chelsi Rossi

Instagram: @_chiles