C.N.P Poetry 

  • Cathexis Northwest Press

On the Hero’s Journey; The Son

By: Mike Seid



On the Hero’s Journey


By then my mother could no longer walk

or talk but also had let go her shame

and so she let us wheel her down the block

to shop that market where they'd known her name.

When Steve the checkout guy beheld her there

cartoonishly so shriveled in her chair

he cracked and wailed Roberta how unfair

then bought her violets gifting them with care.

I watched a film alone the other night

that had a star who was this juggernaut.

He faced down every killer in a fight

and didn’t lose a step when he got shot.

I had popcorn and sodas at my side.

My mother had a grocery man who cried.




The Son



There may yet come that day you can forgive

your father making you what you’ve become.

He too as you got forged to learn to live

by error by trial by wants that turned him numb.

Your mother will not call out from the grave.

All that she said is all that she will say

and though she yearned to bottle you to save

some drifting fulgent spark there was no way.

Today at Coffee Bean I had to choose

which bag of beans to buy to brew at home.

I stood for near an hour in my shoes

then headed back to drink two cups alone.

It’s said that coffee grounds can read your fate.

There’s things I’d ask my folks but it’s too late.




Mike Seid grew up in Los Angeles and earned a degree in Classics from Harvard. He currently resides in Barbados.

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