This is short and rough. I decided it needs to float in the ether for a while so I can see if it has legs.
What He Said
The son is in the father.
They both lie down in their beds at night
and wake in the morning from dreams of weeping.
They cannot remember the meaning of their tears.
I remember dreams in which I scream, but
rarely remember fear.
It is more likely I have made the sound of falling in a river
or heard a woman posing as a shutter, closing off the moon.
More likely I felt her hand upon my cheek
and lost my reason and tried to heave the stone of want
out of the way to show the light within me.
More likely I have forgotten what screaming means.
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