The Other Man in the Room

The old man is with me tonight:

haggard face, blue eyes, sitting

on the sofa across the room, he

can’t see me, deep in contemplation

of some secret only he needs to know,

allowing Vivaldi to massage his

overworked feet and taut muscles,

with slender hands that were once

beautiful and knowledge beyond

his education, lonely but proud,

ambitious but afraid, good

hearted but wounded, a beautiful

smile forms on his lips, I move across

the room to embrace him as his child,

with naked admiration and large tears

grown from years apart, though I am

unable to—the man who once lived

and was my father: is now me.

 

Brenton Booth resides in Sydney, Australia. Writing of his has appeared in many publications, most recently 3:AM Magazine, Scissors & Spackle, Thunder Sandwich, Red Fez, Boyslut, Pyrokinection, Dead Snakes, Clockwise Cat, and Yellow Mama.