ALAS, POOR MR. LIGHTHEAD
for valentine’s day, to our son from my mother
a set of legos: a bindle of blocks
colored with the promise that you can lock
together almost anything—another
lie i’ve let linger. for years, my brother
and i would build castles. airports. lunar docks
and spaceships. then came the dismantling: mohawks
with skateboards; r movies; first dance, car, lover.
but again i’m telling stories in plastic.
this will hurt a lot, i say, voice metal-frizzy.
my name is doctor robot, and i can read
your blocky mind. my patient’s complaint is drastic:
head snapped off. but our son laughs. he knows it’s easy
to heal. we can rebuild whatever life we need.
B.J. Best is the author of three books of poetry: But Our Princess Is in Another Castle (Rose Metal Press, 2013), Birds of Wisconsin (New Rivers Press 2010), and State Sonnets (sunnyoutside, 2009). I got off the train at Ash Lake, a verse novella, is forthcoming from sunnyoutside in 2015. Visit him at bjbestpoet.wordpress.com.