June 10th

Donovan Dixon

Sam is dying

My old man is piss drunk

The passion of Joan of Arc stares down at me from the television

cathode-ray tubes proselytizing to me like a holy vision from Maté himself

The two of them lie on the cold laminate gnashing their teeth along to Joan's trial their grief passing into the witching hour and poor Sam gives out one last croak

We bury him in the morning the sun climbs overhead as an ill omen while I paint my hands red with Alabama clay

 

The cicadas wail along to a quiet eulogy

I watch the pine trees sway and swell as the old fool retreats into his office

 

and I think to myself

That man loved more of that dog than he’ll ever love of me

Artwork: John Everett Millais Joan of Arc 1865