In His Eighty-Second Year

by Dominik Parisien

What he sees is
          the Woodbine-covered scarecrow in the garden
          a green man crowned in violet blue, with spectacles of shattered glass
          an old man with a burlap suit spotted black with berries

What he hears is
          his daughter peeling covers off pill-filled containers
          water, his lungs filling and his heartbeat drowning
          a vine and leaf mouth whispering I love you I love you I love

What he says is
          make my blue eyes green green green
          fill my mouth with dirt, my veins with sap, my bones with seeds
          I'm sorry, I am, so sorry

What he does is
          weep for a life loathed, a life loved
          smear his face in black-brown earth, stain his shirt green
          tell his daughter who knew all along

---

Dominik Parisien lives in French, writes in English and dreams in a combination of the two. He is an intern for Cheeky Frawg Books and a former editorial assistant for Weird Tales. His fiction has appeared in Andromeda Spaceways Inflight Magazine. This is his first published poem.

Read Dominik's discussion of this poem over at the Roundtable!

Photography: .the only thing i feel is paiN, by Sippanont Samchai.