HER FATHER
Nasim Luczaj
cuts our wood
stacks it in the shed
gossips in the breaks
never knocks
points at a broccoli
and asks what it is
comes over
with a rifle
to kill himself with
and my dad sits him down
in the kitchen
till it’s passed
we see him
on the hill
swaying between road
and ditch
moon always full
eyes shining
as if a snail had run
its body over them
the moon
colonising him
the way cordyceps
take over ants
make them leave
their nests
eat them up
and shoot
a fruiting body
from the head
but then
he’s himself
won’t drink again
until the moon
comes back
without knocking
chops the yard
into view
aims
its rifle