Rogue Avenging Hockey Dad

 

Double-fisted hand holding
through dark Newark streets
for a women’s hockey game
 
strong girls
growing stronger
in the burgeoning stands
to be ice-cool
and sharp as blades
 
beyond the stadium horns
and the flash and lights,
crying from pure exhaustion
 
Dad’s pocket money depleted
evaporated like so much cotton candy
 
worth every blood-earned penny
to escape the cultural poison
and raise
warrior women

Lone Wolf in Manhattan

stop to realize

I have become

a walking relic,

a tie-wearing man

in an open-collar world

where eunuchs grow beards

and women lean in

when they should stand

where savages

are taken for scholars

and beauty and art

is measured in dollars

but I smile widely

as I spot the sharp eyes

of my growing tribe

recused

and refuse

to live a lie