Daddy

 

Length: 1:01

 

Jonathan sits in an office in front of a set of blinds, wearing a cap and reading a poem. Superimposed over his image is a black-and-white picture of his young uncle. The camera pans slowly from the top of Glen’s picture to the bottom as Jonathan reads:

 

Daddy said he’d beat the fag out of

me and I was surprised at how often I

let him try. He’d unslither that belt

and I’d turn to stone without even

looking back. You cannot escape

divine retribution. In the morning

my ass would stick to the sheets

and I’d remember to be a good boy

now, to pray to God to take this

cup from my father, to pass over

the house of the sinner: look at the

blood, shed for you and for all men

that we might sleep a little more

soundly in our knowledge of one

another. In the afternoon, Sophie

and I would chase butterflies and

she’d promise not to tell. My net

screamed as we caught the fingers

of God, but I could never stick the

pin through the spines that writhed at

my touch and I let every one of them

go. We watched them splinter sun

with wings thinner than the sacred

host, while I felt the ghost of the

leather strap taking away the sins of

the world.