Jesse James Todd
for my father
Bullets in the rye bottle. Wasps
crawling out of the walls. Alright then,
sting me like
the breath of a ploughman
in Omaha, or a train
conductor checking his
invisible watch for no time in particular.
Like cold rain answering
the brothel prayers.
Like the river sparing the church
taking the town.
A ghost in every cider mill.
Pockets filled to the brim with snakes.
Cody Todd is the author of the chapbook, “To Frankenstein, My Father” (2007, Proem Press). His poems have appeared in Conduit, The Denver Quarterly, Salt Hill and are forthcoming in the Gettysburg Review and The Literary Review. He is also the Managing Editor of the literary journal, The Offending Adam.