Men Thank God For Tears by Michael Rather

Vachel Lindsay

When Kate and Ro swing foam swords over head

and Rhys rides his bike with feet lifted from the cement

and the gray cirrus strips begin to fray in our sky

and the sun once again becomes pronounced

and the ants are all there surrounding my tea cup

and I hear the engines of the trucks in the parking lot

behind our home and notice that each bolt

of the carport is my hair color and the very air

is light and thin, when the bubble stays in my throat

and I could never wish for silence

and the high flung plane is visible over the houses

and the boys go back to their own fight

and their mother returns to her raking

and alone I sit in the blue plastic chair,

my heart falls in my chest and I remember

a creek’s sound on a sanding bank

and the dog’s little bones scattered

from the scavenging

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M. Rather, Jr. (Dr. Michael Rather, Jr.) is a poet, teacher, and practitioner of Historical European Martial Arts. His work has appeared in West Texas Review, Subterranean Blue Poetry, Star 82 Review, Borderlands, and Concho River Review.