He was a man in that way that energy rises
rust-red from the earth beneath his black toe-capped boots
A man to his palms and his knuckles and fingers
scarred by rivets he had caught and men’s heads he had broke
Real boys don’t cry he shouted as he cuffed me for crying
and boys hit first in the face no forgiveness
but as he lay helpless, clenched fists on the bedsheets
as the energy soaked down through the world he had conquered
as I finally knew what was his was now my world
as my face lost its colour remember he said
what I’ve often told you that real boys don’t cry
one last thing to remember
men do