Joliet

Joliet, 1987.
Twin beds across from the prison.
He thought I was asleep.

One of the hockey moms.
I’d seen her at practice,
heard her now.
The quiet panting.

After that I was his friend,
best friend.
The road trips to Canada,
her head in his lap on Highway 417.
I watched the trees.

My father was my hero
My father was my hero

Years later he put his hands on my sister.
I put mine on him.

There is no resting
from what you see at seven.

Augustus Rivers