TONIGHT I TELL MY TROUBLES TO THE DEAD COSSACK IN THE ICE BOX – Mark S Borczon

 

(For my father)

I have slept winters
In gulag cold, in beds too far
From the warmth of the stove
And I have shared blankets with
A woman so bedbug crazy
On so many pain killers she
Pissed the bed in her sleep
And her urine was ice cold
I have watched my daughters’ tears
Freeze on their cheeks
Like the notes on the neck
Of a balalaika and
I have worked jobs
That are as cold
And meaningless
As the stars above
A starving man

Better men have
Drank less against more
Better men
Beg forgiveness

I don’t
Instead I drive
A railroad spike
Into my grandfather’s
Headstone
And fill the hole
With my dead
Father’s ashes

Tonight, dad
This drink
Is for
You



Mark S. Borczon is a poet living in Erie, Pa. He used to publish widely in the small press but currently lacks a computer. He works with disabled students at Edinboro University of Pa and raised three daughters he is crazy in love with.

(Mark S. Borczon is the twin brother of Matthew Borczon, who is also featured on this site)

 

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *