Postmodern Poetry - Xanax Pop by Lewis LaCook

for Clem

When the kids are asleep
i forget the beatings

I forget how you
took that sleep from me
and filled it with monsters that growl
under my wake

Stepfathers should always
stand outside the magic circle

stepping on the edges
making sure it doesn’t draw tighter
into a noose

They are not horned beasts
dragging off the princess mother
into dark bedrooms
that trouble dreams

and neither were you

Like me you were a man
fighting not to slip down
all those holes in yourself

Round with no center
Round going down in the middle

Oh honeys i cling to the edge
Oh babies some days i know the secret
of levitation

Maybe you were too blind
Maybe diabetes took your sleep
Maybe you never realized how heavy it is

to sculpt men from the precipice
to sing something bright in these
meadows blazing with rust

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