Thread: That Almighty Father

Decided against the explanation.

That Almighty Father

Christ died so I could get high
and pray for a good man
to nail. Crumble him
into powder, frost my nostrils.
Pick up skyscrapers with my fingertips,
make them putty, stretch them out.
Do covet this city. Do unto its scruff
and lonely men as they would do me
behind a dumpster with boys on either side.
No exits. Inject heaven.
Inhale the Holy Ghost.

I never prayed with my family.
Just took in the scene.
Quiet speaking to the invisible man,
but no one spoke to me.
My father’s grin underneath
the bowed-head façade
sneaking into my veins.
Perfectly articulated to pick me up
with his fingertips.
Make me putty. Stretch me out.
No exits.

Christ died so I could get by
and pray for a good man
to love me. Breathe through
the floorboards. Splintered wood
that takes to my lungs like water.
These men on either side
with their powerhouse laughter
and their perfectly articulated,
Oh Baby breaths, got me high,
took me inside a corner cracked
house to take my insides.

My father said I was an angel
so I better pray. Maybe if I had
broken the disconnection
at the dinner table,
joined in the God is great, God is good,
I’d be a good enough lover
for that almighty Father.
He’d pick me up
in holy fingertips. Stretch me out
to the promiseland-for-whores.
Take these men with their highs
and their carving knives

to an exit.

I love the refrain, and I think it is powerful and, linguistically, very beautiful. I thought, though, that the first and second stanzas were very repetitive. I felt like I was reading the first stanza over again when I read the second. Perhaps move that one around? Overall though, a very powerful work. Sad, really. But powerful.

I don't think it is repetitive. Its an association. The phrase, "make them putty, stretch them out... is related to "Make me putty. Stretch me out." in the second st. Also "No exit" This is what seems repetitive, but the two stanzas present radical new imagery. The poem has a strong voice. The shifts into the bizarre have strong associative attachment, to the moment in the poem, and is coherent throughout the poem. A powerful poem. Well done.

And everybody knows that it's now or never
Everybody knows that it's me or you
And everybody knows that you live forever
Ah when you've done a line or two

Leonard Cohen: Everybody Knows

This is a potent mixture of desperation and regret. One yearns for a little redemption but maybe, in this scene, 'the dice are fixed'. Nice work.