Organic mixed media artwork by Kay Sexton
Hang up high from the roofbeams, father,
with just the strength of
your thumb and forefinger.
Gaze upon your boy asleep,
shivering from a window open—
a window you floated in through,
weightless, as if free from
the control of night wind. It howls now,
drowning out sound of slumber.
A restless sleep. The cost of your leaving.
You can barely make his shape out
in the dark.
Strike a match. Blow it out.
Be gone before he can smell the sulfur.