POETRY BY ABE BECKER

FOUND OBJECT

when I viewed my dad’s anesthetizing tube jutting

from his neck it looked like the wrong image of

death like whatever body he reincarnates into will

be reliant on oxygen machines & more brains &

charm than everyone OK like even his soul swirling

in limbo before finding its next ribcage will need

artificial celestial propulsion he didn’t believe in

reincarnation I stopped practicing Buddhism when

I moved in with him after college he believed in

the right thing & didn’t understand depression of

the spirit he wasn’t his collapsed lungs I mean it

would be like if he had to view my body & found

a giant tear & frown painted on my cold skin when

I think of him in a better place it’s a wind tunnel

it’s a hurricane or soft breeze on my face reading

one of his mystery novels with the windows down

parked where he would try & escape