Death in a Youth

Sophie Mo | Poetry

the Father divorced              twenty-two

years past childbirth you                  have

never learned to            raise your youth

this I remember because            we drew

histories with crayons         for strangers

in the terminals              next to the park

wondering if we             could steal their

shoes or if they could                  read the

capitalistic guilt         from their breaths

but pray                               can you recall

the last time those                swings bore

innocence

now turn                          to the epilogue

this is the part                where my hand           

sits larger in yours                 holding an       

idiopathic tremor     lost in translation

between two ages               meanwhile I

hold your body         sluggish        from

the train                          that bludgeons    

demands        through        baby        fat       

when rust takes     residence in the last          

laboring cogs of                     your lungs

​

here is our story's                              end-

ing tell me                dear Father do you

remember                                 my burial

the last flesh              from the machine

​

begging you                          dear Father

​

have I been                              forgotten?

Sophie Mo is a writer from California who dabbles occasionally in poetry. Her published poetry can be found in The Aurora Journal. When not writing, they're busy trying to nurse an unrequited love for their cat and playing rhythm games.