TRANSCRIPT: 

And then a dad 
who is not my dad 
except for when I call him dad 
and he says yes son  

and places an acid laced 
altoid on my tongue 
like communion 
like his own cum   

and we nestle back 
arm over leg 
leg over hip 
crotch to crotch  

and on the tv 
a drag queen 
sharing her recipe 
for sun tea  

asks us if we want to  
watch her take a break 
and we take a break   

and the hyacinths in her hair 
are no longer hyacinths 
except for when I call them  

hyacinths   

and he kisses me 
and I am not his son 
except for when he calls me   

his sun.  

Andrew Ketcham writes about love. He is thirty and single. His debut book of poems CAPTIVA is now available through Cherry Dress Press. He tweets @islafissure