By the snide eyes
you give me
I can tell you disapprove.

I’ve kept my secret
closeted it in darkness
for four agonizing years

before springing it
in a moment of candid

I could see you sober
with astonishing suddenness

the lustre erased entirely
from your face.

Suddenly you clutch my hands
and say it doesn’t matter

I am your son.

Author: Robert James Berry

Poet & Novelist