Nicholas Hogan

Every boy learns to fight  
            from his father’s fists. 
                         Through bruised knuckles 
             and broken jaws 
you carved my hands  
             so they resemble yours  
                         holding all of your  
             muscle memory.  
I never knew your father  
             yet I feel his leathery skin  
                         on your earthly body  
             and I feel ashamed  
as I am the man that hurt you  
              and I am your brittle bones 
                         and I am the boy you hurt.  
              I see our ancestors in a line  
like dominoes, each held up 
              only by the hand 
                         of his father, each tugging 
              another boy behind him. 
Maybe it’s a mercy 
               that I can never love a woman  
                         queer claws can never build 
                another body. 
No boy will ever call me father  
               so I can let go of mine  
                         and watch the dominoes fall.