Oliver Swain


Joseph - Poem by Oliver Swain

Boy,
My only, my beloved,
I dreamed of you.
Caught on slumber’s crumbled edge
I glimpsed you far off –
Another plane scorched your kid feet,
Some other wind threw sand-shrouds
Around your secret love, and you sang

A faint amen turned to boundless
Hallelujah: every nameless grain sings
In spinning broken chains around.
Alas,
The song was written not
For me to hear.

Look, boy
I have carved your name on my hands
But I will never be your father.

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Poem Submitted: Tuesday, April 8, 2008



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