AND A FATHER HIS CHILD

Words by Joel Sedano  Photography by Cat Ramos 

Before being formed
in the womb like a
clay mini version of machismo, you knew
I was born to consecrate
the impossible: living up
to your namesake. 

What’s in a name? Yahweh
is Lord, crept down
from King David’s mighty men.
Unforeseen by prophets,
forty-one years
your Jr., a promise of future
blessings – your preemie miracle. 

Languidly my manners
bent further and further
away at a queer angle.
I became sandwiched
between performativity
and expectations, hoping
to blanket ruptured fault 

lines cracking under my
facade, sundered like pretty,
earth-toned plates shifting
tectonically. I ran and ran for
possibly too long, but I think
we both knew I couldn’t
hide. ¿Tuviste vergüenza?
Like burrs digging into flesh
remind me los sentimientos
your leaving
scars upon my heart,
Cheated of the son owed you.