Listen to Chase Twichell reading this poem. The meanest thing my father ever said, he said to my cousin, who told me: She’ll make the world’s worst wife. Thank you, cousin, for tearing away one of my veils.
When Mom came to see us
I fell from the tree house, and had to lug
a pail of stones around all summer
since the elbow healed slightly bent.
That straightened the arm.
O when does childhood end?
In the globe of the night sky,
the inner stars are falling.
I leave him in a room like a baby’s
but without toys.