Colliding genes
Sep 6, 2023
The genes —
the pull of my grandfather’s train,
the Missouri tracks
and the dress she wore,
his first love,
as she lay barefoot
on the wet Midwestern grass.
The genes —
the pull of my grandfather’s sword,
the horse he wanted me to ride,
an Arab horse,
indifferent to Slavic fury
and Persian saddles.
The genes.
Is there perhaps
something lost in-between?
A secret will,
an encrypted text,
an idle screen?
