Telemachus to Odysseus
by Beau Boudreaux

Dare listen and think
we change, cut above the brow
wind chimes ting window sills

and now there's no settling
rather a select number
father, I count them in the sea

poached pompano in meuniere
their hair casually bunned
glossy-lipped, wisped -- I don't watch

them drive away, lovers
really wouldn't be out these hours
slowly I cut the light

leaving the fan rotating
slowly, taking my time --

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