Two milligrams
of morphine was enough,
weak as he was,
his mind already gone,
breath like a rusty shovel
in the loam
that caked his lungs.
He wasn’t coming home.
My father killed his father
with his hands
stroking the last stray vectors
of white hair
and timing with the distance
of his stare
the proper dosage
decency demands.
I watched behind a magazine,
aged six,
parsing segments
of his death between
“Rising Stars of Friends”
and “Seventeen
Reasons Why We Love
Brad Pitt.”
— Published 19th August 2019
About Jordan Potter
Jordan Potter is an actor and writer from Huntington Beach, CA. He operates the poetry film studio, Blank Verse Films.
Read more poems by Jordan here