They said,
“well, at least, you don’t miss
something
that you never knew.”
this pater-shaped hole
began to impress;
began to exceed excess.
And, once begun,
it couldn’t be undone,
it made both
beginning, and, ending;
without gravitas. Gone.
A filicidal forecast looming
within,
gloomy;
whether he reigned or son shone
“A victim of cruel circumstance?”
this pater-shaped hole
became a grave of discontent,
deep.
So, very, deeply;
without.
No heaped shovel or search
within
could ever uncover it,
nor, taste of stark reality
– stomach it
“A by-product of uncertain romance?”
this pater-shaped hole
has a
dangerous potential
to permeate
generations,
going from keyhole;
within, to black-hole;
exhuming –
gravity without fixture,
irrevocably vacuuming;
sons of Mars,
Venus’ daughters,
zodiac stars, suns, moons,
and all of their explorers,
solar systems, nebulae,
and, galactic formations
of future paterfamilias,
of all things familial,
intergenerational idioms,
inscriptions and incantations
“I didn’t miss what I had never known.
I just knew that something within was missing.
Half the time I felt apart, alone.
Half of my history in absentia whilst existing.”
