The Monkey's Paw

            Dad had fingernails
            Hard as a monkey's toenails
            Hands tanned like leather.
            From the elbows down
            Dad was alive.

            Like a vampire
            He never took his shirt off
            In the sun.
            In the backyard
            He stuck his hands in soil
            Brought forth life.

            The bathroom would smell
            Of old steel or stale water
            When he came out
            With his newspaper.

            Dad would leave for weeks
            Sucked into another bottle
            Loosened lips
            Burbling old sins
            Attacking dead enemies
            Sinking new ships.

            Awakened in his puke
            He would struggle for the throne
            A pretender always
            Dressed in old clothes
            Promising new deals
            Dangling angles
            Beckoning with a crooked finger
            Shakily pointing to the blame