“My Three Other Fathers” By Jeffrey MacLachlan

Vietnam Draft Father:

My father born exactly one week later is drafted. He leaves the repair shop at Kimbers and smooches Miss July goodbye for jungle brothels and napalm. One night he strips naked because the bullwhips of heat julienne his skin forged in rural frost. A ripple of gunfire whistles across his mouth like a harmonica and this poem is not written.

Apartheid Father:

While at Kimbers, a Homelite rep offers my dad a job as Apartheid thaws. This new South Africa needs farm equipment and reliable hands. We’re talking serious money, man. You want a family, right? That girl you’re dating went to college? Sailing lessons? You think you can afford a better life for How Jr. wasting around these dopes? So my father boards his first plane to Homelite’s compound and an upbringing combusts oil rainbows into engine infernos and this poem is not written.

Hunter Father:

My dad leaves for maintenance work and I know where the key rests and I’m left alone and he sacrificed and I leaked promise and soap operas and still at home and the student loans and woodland ghosts and

Jeffrey H. MacLachlan also has recent or forthcoming work in New Ohio Review, Eleven Eleven, The William & Mary Review, among others. He teaches literature at Georgia College & State University. He can be followed on Twitter @jeffmack.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s