My Grandfather, the Metalworker
By Avi Nguyen
Blesséd be his hands, wrought
with steel and iron, dusted with ash.
His days were endless,
and night melded into noon
turning his hours of meditation
Into a blazing star.
The perpetual summer
burned into his skin, weaving
long tattoos of flames,
scorches of crimson had simmered down
to leave maroon kisses
etched deep in his forearms.
The metal smoldered
and blasted into a hiss,
the creation screaming into water.
The breath of a dragon
sending the shop into storm
Yesterday I saw him in the barbershop.
His hair was turning gray.
His face drooped like a sad bulldog,
the ocean had come to swallow him.
Avi Nguyen lives in Boston and attends Boston University. He is currently studying Political Science and Economics.