Flesh
Epilogue
Did I dance on his grave like I thought I would?
Tick tock the clock in the dusty sunlight,
curtains drawn,
the quiet room ringing in my ears
daddy's dead.
It's a long time since I called him that - when he was the one who faced life while we played behind his back.
He never explained.
I never knew.
Perhaps now he'll die in me too
and I can be not like him.
Hannah will be pleased.
Pat (the clever one) Keildson (pronounced Killed son).
I think the name means a keel of a boat in Danish (Keelson).
But I know, no matter how much I don't want to be,
I am my fathers son.
Barnacles and blight are my character - not my worth,
rust and dust my most comfortable manifestation,
warm and wet
sun and moon miracle am I
the star of the show
and someone will cry
when I die.
My father (click here) brought me up at top speed. I was always trying to avoid him.
He was thoughtful in his way and meant well, even the time when he thought he needed to prepare me for the realities of farm life.
When I was ten years old, we visited a friend of his who had a farm, and this man took me for a pre-arranged walk among the sheep.
He smiled and patted one them as we passed, and as I moved to do the same, he cut its throat.
The irony is that we never slaughtered any of our sheep or cattle because they became pets and we had to go into town and get our meat from the butcher.
Father
I don't have to whisper anymore.
There's no more tomorrow to fear.
Mother
I saw everything I did through HER eyes.(I thought she'd be the one to understand me and love me like I knew.)
Who is SHE?
SHE is ME.
It is I.
I'll be me
and set you free
from my desire
and my love
goodbye my mommy
goodbye my daddy.
I have discovered myself.