PDF

Overcoming Dad


by Amanda Harris


Dad, with an imaginary flask at hand 
that he whirls and whirls
like a beast untamed, tells me writing, 
at its core, is simple the way a jet landing 
is simple, coarse the way a woman's hair 
 can be coarse. “You do not mess with 
good writing”, he says, aware, in his spirit, 
of the unspoken war raging, like an angry river, 
in our bodies. Bodies, when you think about them, 
are excellent sites for war. They heave when 
it is right to heave. They bend when it is right 
to bend. If I could tell Dad anything, I'd tell him this.
Endcap