lead blood

filling the pill box with paint. my father
sits inside a space ship & makes electricity 
from his grief. in a man, grief turns 
into chickens. a whole flock 
to tend & tend. the factory sings 
like a scratched CD. tongue snipped off.
there is lead in our walls & lead in our heels.
once, i tried to swim & the ocean said,
"let's not dream too big." gulls with lipstick.
a jukebox playing only the beatles 
until it dies. everything about masculinity
i learned from the factory. men go in.
some men go out. lockers. uniforms.
how dirt nestles between knuckles.
i should not chew on doorframe anymore
but no one was letting me in.
we once set fire to the chicken coop.
don't worry, the chickens had long ago
turned into foxes. a wild black dog
wondered the hills. his eyes were made
from blackberries. i used to want so badly
to be my father. i worn his old shoes 
like mobile homes. collected pictures of him
when he was a smooth-faced boy.
turned to summon a gender from there
that i could run around in. instead,
i learned to be a man is to drink lead 
molten from the slit neck of a sow. 
it is to cast a statue of yourself
& sell replicas to whoever is listening.
smelter blowing ash into the summer air.
i wash my face in a contaminated creek.
all the frogs have third eyes & fifth legs.
i greet them & ask for their permission.
i want to be a spirit. weightless. return all allegiance
to metals. they bless me. in the name of
the father & the son & the holy heavy ghost.