RANDALL HORTON

A Male Legacy Uninterrupted


Big Earl digs frantically in his pockets,
tries to recreate boyhood memories,

comes up rabbit ears on a blueprint
or semblance of a working paradigm

on how to be a father to his first born.
Perfectly he has committed to memory

the quarts and profuse marijuana smoke
he witnessed faithfully after school,

or the natural cadence in his old man’s voice,
how the baritone would bring alive

a dark alley with broken streetlamp.
This is what he remembers:

Like father like son, he has practiced the art
of packaging soft powdery snow,

his Timberlands cemented seven days a week
next to the Chinese carryout

to continue inherited traditions.
Tucked inside his waistline is the swell

of a desert eagle, its black esophagus
hard as his manhood whenever he counts

just enough crumpled bills to pay rent.
Fast living currents through his bloodline,

the only thing he can will to his son
who loves to listen to the hum of street life.



(Appeared in Conclave Issue 1: 2008)