Return

Issue 7

“It is difficult to persuade me that the story of the Prodigal Son is not the legend of one who didn't want to be loved.”
—Rilke

I have been nowhere.
No one I knew is
Longer living--
Not even you.
Not even me.
There are no roots
To trace disgrace,
Only the clipped sparrow
Skipping in your ear.
These hands made soft
By soft days give way
To bleeding feet
Frayed like shorn limbs.
Ignore the lost manners
Stumbling on my tongue.
The frailty of my step.
The blackness of my teeth.
The swine stench clinging
Like soiled skin.
If I was loved it was of
The unloving duty to love,
So unhand the fatted calf,
Keep your rings and robes,
Prepare the vineyards
For my brother.
Expect nothing of me
And I will not disappoint.
Now, please, now,
For once, see me.

---

JOHN JEFFIRE
was named Grand PrIze Winner in the Mount Arrowsmith Novel Competition and in 2007 it won a Gold Medal for Regional Fiction in the Independent Publishing Awards. His first book of poetry, “Stone + Fist + Brick + Bone,” was nominated for a Michigan Notable Book Award in 2009. In 2022, his novel River Rouge won the 2022 American Writing Awards for Legacy Fiction.  For more on the author and his work, visit writeondetroit.com.

---