I clubbed a baby seal
his flesh soft, compliant
and the blood congealed
at the end of my baton.
I did it without thinking
consequentially about life
and what exactly was linking
him to that flow of ice.
I made a suit for my son
the soft spotted fur on the outside
the tanned leather in
against his pliable little body.
Today he looks handsome standing in church
playing the part of Adam in the garden
of Eden.
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David – Thanks so much for submitting to The Whistling Fire. I really like this poem. I’m wondering how a line break would seem inserted between “…flow of ice. / / I made a suit…” and perhaps another one at: “…little body. // Today he looks…”
Just a thought. – Bryan