Two Poems
- Nov 4, 2019
- 1 min read
by Travis Cravey
Shaving as Metaphor
I was teaching my son to shave when
he cut himself, deeply,
along his jaw.
He turned to face me,
his father,
red blood running down his neck,
covering his hands.
What do I do? he said.
Someday all I have seen and known,
all the blood, smoke, and fire,
the low days and different stars,
will follow me, forever, into some great, distant
somewhere.
When My Wife
When me wife asks me
To touch her
I flinch.
When my wife asks me
To kiss her
I recoil.
When my wife asks me
To explain myself
I am silent, dumbfounded at this life.
Travis Cravey is a mechanic in Southeastern Pennsylvania.
