Boundless
by Michael R. Burch

for Jeremy Michael Burch

Every day we whittle away at the essential solidity of him,
and every day a new sharp feature emerges:
a feature we’ll spend creative years: planing, smoothing, refining,

trying to find some new Archaic Torso of Apollo, or Thinker . . .

And if each new day a little of the boisterous air of youth is deflated
in him, if the hours of small pleasures spent chasing daffodils
in the outfield as the singles become doubles, become triples,
become unconscionable errors, become victories lost,

become lives wasted beyond all possible hope of repair . . .

if what he was becomes increasingly vague—like a white balloon careening
into clouds; like a child striding away aggressively toward manhood,
hitching an impressive rucksack over sagging, sloping shoulders,
shifting its vaudevillian burden back and forth,

then pausing to look back at us with an almost comical longing . . .

if what he wants is only to be held a little longer against a forgiving *****;
to chase after daffodils in the outfield regardless of scores;
to sail away like a balloon
on a firm string, always sure to return when the line tautens,

till he looks down upon us from some removed height we cannot quite see,

bursting into tears over us:
what, then, of our aspirations for him, if he cannot breathe,
cannot rise enough to contemplate the earth with his own vision,
unencumbered, but never untethered, forsaken . . .

cannot grow brightly, steadily, into himself—flying beyond us?

Keywords/Tags: child, childhood, boy, son, growing up, maturation, puberty, adulthood, manhood, flight, flying, soaring

Cycles
by Michael R. Burch

I see his eyes caress my daughter’s *******
through her thin cotton dress,
and how an indiscreet strap of her white bra
holds his bald fingers
in fumbling mammalian awe . . .

And I remember long cycles into the bruised dusk
of a distant park,
hot blushes,
wild, disembodied rushes of blood,
portentous intrusions of lips, tongues and fingers . . .

and now in him the memory of me lingers
like something thought rancid,
proved rotten.
I see Another again—hard, staring, and silent—
though long-ago forgotten . . .

And I remember conjectures of ***** lines,
brief flashes of white down bleacher stairs,
coarse patches of hair glimpsed in bathroom mirrors,
all the odd, questioning stares . . .

Yes, I remember it all now,
and I shoo them away,
willing them not to play too long or too hard
in the back yard—
with a long, ineffectual stare

that years from now, he may suddenly remember.

Keywords/Tags: cycles, youth, puberty, teenagers, ***, lust, desire, daughter, father, chastity, virginity, abstinence

You first showed up when I was ten.
I knew who you were but I didn’t want to know you.
I’d read about you in books. Forbidden books.  
How could I explain to my mother that I already knew your name?
I expected you later and I hated you already.

You provided me with the key to a secret club
A place of shame and disgrace.
I wasn’t allowed to talk about you.
A pact of silence between members

Mother said you might make me feel unwell
That was an understatement.
Iron spikes drove through my insides
Steel bars wrapped around me
Spears ****** down my legs.
All I knew was pain
A white-hot, blank-space hurt filling every crevice of my body.

Do you remember that time on the climbing frame with friends?  
I should have been a carefree child but I was dragging a heavy, aching body across the bars.
Or that time I collapsed at school
Head down on the desk, my body could give no more
The school nurse accusing me of faking it.  Telling me you weren’t that bad.  A good friend, really.

Or how about the time you showed up at work.
Made your presence known to everyone
It was described as careless destruction of corporate property
Leaving me humiliated, wages docked to pay for the chair you destroyed.
My inability to control you, a professional failure.
And the other club members offered no sympathy.

You were my constant companion of misery
I didn’t dare attend that party, go on that trip, take that promotion…
You were always waiting around a corner.
And so I withdrew
It became just you and I.  As you wanted.
Defeated. You had won.

Twenty-two years, I suffered in your grip
Twenty-two years of screaming into pillows; body and mind dissolving into agony
But I found a way back.
Suppressed you with chemicals.  I finally discovered me without you.
The person I was supposed to be.

Ten years I have lived without you
Ten years of rebuilding my life, relationships and career.  
I never realised how much control you had
Until that time that I was free.  I emerged.
From a sea of despair. Head now above the deep darkness
I can breathe.

there was a long time
that i hated both of you
i couldn’t understand how to love
despite all you gave me
i was lost in the vines, all twisted up inside
i saw the cruelty in his eyes
and hated the way it reflected back in mine
i heard the desperation in her screams
and raised mine louder
there was anger settled inside me
like some dark recipe brewing in my bones
1. set low to boil
2. let it explode

Village boys drive the harvest
princesses through Mainstreet

the eels in the source swim
answers for the lovers

who seek assurances, but we
lie on the attic mattress

and repeat what should never
end, we know it for sure

in every cell of our body:
more real we cannot feel

like no one can reason away
diseases or torture, so

let us, weightlessly heavy, sink away
together in the smell of angelica

i seek,
this echo of resplendent joy.
You.
how weak,
am i to fall?

this sound among all,
is one i'd deck the halls with.
Yours.
perhaps this fall,
i shall embrace.

the sight,
the sound,
You.

it rings,
oh,
does it ring.

Puberty arrives
With it's accompanying drives
Plus the scourge of teenage acne.
Most remedies would fail
Nothing ever worked well
While my face continued to attack me.

Father scoffed "Son I implore
If you scrub your face more
Then your acne will soon disappear."
Scrubbed as hard as I could
But it still did no good
Further proof that my case was severe.

Unsightly, painful and embarrassing...
By adulthood it stopped its harassing.

They came expected,
But oh so unexpected,
Dusk stalking blue skies and sun,
A small patch; barely infected,
Just a few weeks and they’ll be gone,
Just a few weeks and they’ll be gone,

The naivety of my youth allowed me to forgive them,
But time has passed,
They have been feeding,
Infesting,
Like mould in a damp corner,
I ‘must be handling them wrong’,
A new product promised to do wonders,
To my ears an angel’s song,
Just a few weeks and they’ll be gone,

And yet a few turned to a family,
Beneath the diet, the exercise, the routines, the gallons of water, the research,
I could hear Lucifer laughing,
Like that one person at my school,
That was a year ago,
And yet they and Lucifer still laugh at me,
Through murky panes and pictures,
Just a few weeks and they’ll be gone,

Every day they disappear more,
I tell myself I’ve won,
Yet old pictures show me it’s an illusion,
Surely they’ll end for summer’s fun,
Just a few weeks and they’ll be gone,

I now greet my friend the mirror,
Between everything I do,
He tells me it’s getting clearer,
His story’s must be true,
Just a few weeks and they’ll be gone,

I am a fool to my own deceit,
For the naked eye of me the whole world,
Can see these demons,
These scarlet brandings,
And every glimpse I catch in my friend the mirror,
In the reflections of a stranger’s wondering eye,
The voice in my head says ‘why me’
That’s all that it’s come to,
There is no more light in this night that has consumed me,
So all that is left,
Is echoes,
‘Why me’

But they won’t be here for long,
Just a few weeks and they’ll be gone.