Dead Man’s Petition
With a last what-the-hell round, a chaser
of self-pity, he drove to Atlanta, Marathon,
parts south. His ex-wife didn’t see him go.
He’d been lost since the factory closed.
And he owed a year’s back child support.
From Ohio, his decades as deadbeat dad
were untraceable under an alias, living
underground in a work-for-cash economy.
Twenty-odd years later, and beseeching
the same county judge who’d declared him
deceased, he remembers those days past.
His ex doesn’t want him alive—can’t afford
to refund the Social Security spent long ago
for their children. Life got away from him,
he says. But he doesn’t account for much.
Doesn’t visit. Defeat transfixes him again.
Then the gavel pounds. The man stands down.
No one buys back time. A heart in purgatory,
he wanders away. The children are grown.
His ex is getting along. She says he’s better
left a citizen of the Republic of the Undead.
Kathleen, this poem reminds us of a principle many would like to ignore: actions have consequences. This persists in the mind after, like all the best work.
Nice. And a treat to see!
Roy
Thank you, Roy. A compliment from you makes a day shine with more than rain.
Kathleen
“Life got away from him.” Ain’t that the gospel truth! For all of us.
Wonderful composition and so true. You are the best in my book Kathleen!
Cindy, thank you for your more than generous response. It’s definitely a mutual admiration society.