Reid@YWP

The inevitable 
Time 
Ticking by 
It seems to speed up 
The older I get 
The closer I get 
To passing through 
The bewildering 
Magnificent archway 
Of eighteen. 

The first bite of watermelon 

brings back the crash of the tides 

waves of sweet, cold sea foam 

spraying onto gleaming skin 

When my father cries, he sticks his lip out like a kid, his jaw shaking, his eyes red.

He cries when a truth is told:

Someone’s leaving, the end is near, or a fault is exposed,

Guilty

Ugly.