Their bodies gathered at the table

Picking at their plate of deceit

In the act of him echoing his notions of what had happened and what was to come

The father’s ametur gesture sank in the photographs of his memory

He’d feared that just as his father was, he had become

A man,

Small in size but large in mouth

He had never failed to let loose his opinions in matters

In matters not necessary of his commentary  

But as he,

But as they, sat hurdled like heaps of cattle

Did he and his father 

Throw dashing glares 

As he that is in him seeked solely to crucify his father

But in his hard effort he failed,

Failed to see that he’d not want to destroy his sperm donor

But find comfort in the arms of a man who hated him

His father was carved by a blind man

Destruction embodied in his arched adamant palm

A moving entity of anguish 

And he, himself was incarcerated into a figure of his father

So when the rope rescued his neck 

Letting his body sleep into the air

His hands sank

And he stopped carving