Lost and Found in Whiteness
The man gets up and walks away. He heads
Away from all the rubble he has wreaked
In hearts, inside his son, and in those beds
Where he has rutted. His heart and soul have leaked
Away their power through holes the tourniquet
Required when he was poking veins in arms.
He could have held them up to sing and pray.
They could have been for fatherhood. Harms
Led maleness to an Arctic place. Unlike
Some men he did not have to find a path
Away from violence or some harsh spike
Of melancholy. He took baptism’s bath
But found he could not leave behind cocaine.
He walked and found Antarctic joy and pain.