father

By Kassidy McIntosh


my father

moves like a

poltergeist

through walls of

french oak and lavender paint

the rooms of my childhood

he enters and exits both quietly

and not

motioning to nothing

haunting the house always


my father

reflected off surfaces — my bathroom mirror,

slick tinted windows,

the young skin of my brother

deepening in the sun, shining in the

moonlight

unseen always

ghost body — bad dream exhale twice

& forgotten

dark marble, cherries, ugly paisley


always no good calling

burnt omelet breakfast

make your bed


my father

impossible to catch

bouncing around like light does

might be made up now

a silk trim pipe dream my mother

douses in gasoline


a match and fire and suddenly

I am just like the other kids.


my father

is a gameshow host

As Seen On TV — reruns only

never in

real time

so ectoplasmic, I think

my ballerina princess, bad money in birthday cards

jerk chicken force fed — bite the hand that force feeds—

loose baby teeth fall early

while no one is watching


Kassidy Mcintosh / @kassidy_mcintosh (first place): Kassidy McIntosh is a senior in the English department at New York University. Currently she is focusing on her Capstone project as part of the Creative Writing track, which will result in a collection of poetry. Outside of school, she works both at the Tamiment Library and at an independent publishing house, and hopes to continue to work in publishing after graduation.

 
Kaylee WarrenComment