House

by Tom Hatch

Dammed up lodged in my throat
he is coming home
There is the steam from
the compost heap that beckons glow worms
And for his return
seen at night behind the lawn mower shed
next to the stream flowing from
my neighbor’s property on to mine
My son flows
are you out of troubles harm’s way
speak to me of your commissions
and details of your days and hold your
head high no snow or hard rain
on your sobriety I feel guilty
because I…have my scotch every night
to sooth my soul I will tell you this
makes the soul comfortable not an injured horse
waiting to be put down
our shadows are the same my son
cast on the wall under the sheltering eaves of our house