This is a riff of John Poch's poem, "Superman"
In our real-life adaptation of the movie,
the heroine who needs a helping hand,
my distraught daughter, lifts him, broken, to me.
What role do I play on this tage? The man
behind the curtian, best boy, grip, or gaffer?
Who's saving whom from what? What's Kryptonite?
The weight of sin in an action figure laugher?
What can I do for you, a type of the Christ,
for a heart surprisingly like ours: fun,
lonely, tempted by power and flattery,
susceptible to fate, love, and done.
Game over.
I replace your battery.
Doll, who am I above your resurrection:
a bird, plane, your image. The Great Affection?
In this piece, Poch uses a Superman action figure to symbolize the relationship between God and man through the setting of a stage. In my piece, I also attempt to draw a connection between the 'otherworld' and 'earth,' but throuth the setting of a book instead of a movie.
Pipeline
In our weak happily-ever-after of real life,
the uknown are static,
my crackhead son lies festering, paralyzed, red-iced eyes boaring me.
What is expected? Shame?
Sympathy? The nurse-mom of the year?
Am I the helper or the helpless?
What is my Zoloft?
The taste of sterilize gloves drown my skin.
Another murdered plot bunny for Grey's Anatomy.
After school specials and help lines:
Medicine for dummies. We are all
maniacs of hell looking for our harps.
Villains often prevail,
I tongue-kiss cover to cover.
Curtained pages, I am your reader:
But are you my savior or my Cerberus?
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