The bright lights,

the cheers, the jeers

of the crowd

pierced my dreams and

my heart pounded through

the fog of sleep.

 

There was Jesus

on the center cross

and Nixon on his right.

My father’s cross sat

waiting, illuminated

by blue neon.

 

He led the way

to his end,

smiling, jovial, joking,

while I watched, transfixed,

tears streaming down my face.

What was his sacrifice?

 

My father turned to kiss me, hug me,

my heart hammering against his thighs.

I didn’t want him to surrender.

My greatest childhood fear:

the death of my father.

His abandonment

lit up the night sky

in the blue neon

of my childhood nightmare.

 

Eve T. Remillard