My father & I take turns
directing. We are terrible
codirectors—he & I both
yank the narrative
closer toward our own eye’s
insistence. He whipped
a plumbing snake across his back
then held his arms out like Christ.
I cinched shut my eyes
& refused to come home.
When is my father no longer
my father? When Christ descends
and gobbles up his flesh.
My father was a refugee,
fleeing the zombies
that war made
of his own people.
I grab the camera
& make a short documentary
about his life.
We select an Apocalypse Now film clip,
label it fair use, and pay a voice actor
to play my father speaking so much
English. Sometimes artifice is necessary
to get closer to the real thing.
The bridge collapses
& the voice actor laughs,
reading my father’s lines.
Memory & The Past
an expression designed to call something to mind without mentioning it explicitly; an indirect or passing reference
a line break interrupting the middle of a phrase which continues on to the next line
a comparison between two unlike things using the words “like” or “as”