A Golden Shovel inspired by Gwendolyn Brooks’ line “you know you are tasting together the winter”

Forgiveness hangs flimsy between you

and the raw truth you've come to know:

Resentments do come home to roost, to peck, to force you

into navigating fatherhood from your knees. There are

explosives undetonated on your tongue, tasting

like guilt, goddamn and gunpowder all swirled together

You teach yourself to swallow, to repent, to deny the

flames licking from your chest. Arms crossed, she bids you a bitter winter.