Amber Glass Father By: V.C. McCabe
Scent of scotch on
paternal breath.
Beneath my chest,
a gasp of guilt
locked in ribcage.
Psychosomatic sinew,
twisted nerve ’round
rotten apple core.
The thorn in my side:
your legacy.
Fatalist wrapped in
straitjacket sentiment.
V.C. Myers Official Site 