The Sand Hill Review               http://www.sandhillreview.org              2009

 

 

 

 

 Almost Men

 

The boys career into the waves,

slug and shove each other,

the tail end of childhood squeaking out

in the sudden high notes that crack

their deep voices. Soft round faces,

strapping bodies flushed,

half naked in the summer fog,

wolf pups, nipping their brothers’ necks.

The one with the hairiest chest

prances at the water’s edge,

barking orders at his mates.

The runt shies away, shivers and giggles,

hands flattened into armpits.

 

My father, at that age, spent his summers

shouldering hunks of butchered cow

into the freezers at the packing plant.

How could he play when he had to buy
potatoes and cabbage, watch his father
drink away the money?

In the stockyards he slogged through blood.

A red-toothed hunger haunted the cramped flat.

Forced to strip off youth too soon

he wore adulthood like a stiff and itchy pelt

he never learned how to shed.

 

Pat Zylius