Maria Giesbrecht

MY FATHER’S EYELASHES

after Dion O’Reilly

Unruly wild snakes, like Satan’s

pubic hairs. Gates to hell.

The door to a swamp—

toad-green and fermenting.

My father’s eyelashes, a thousand

mini-machetes.

His corkscrew eyelashes, his rabid

eyelashes, his scorpion eyelashes.

My father’s eyelashes—the first

fluttering thing I’ve wanted to bury.

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