You Do Not Need to Be Someone by Molly Brodak

This poem originally appeared in the 2018 issue of Portland Review. We are republishing it online in remembrance of Molly Brodak, a poet and memoirist, who passed away last month. 


I’m my mom
and my dad.


coat and hat on a rack.

Mom’s hands, endless
sea reach
without sound,

Dad’s downturn
luck, god-wrest
force of coin.

At night
the moon won’t

stay at all,
won’t rest with me, where I

in rough text,
old outlines

of refusals,
also do not rest.

The ax in the spine of a fir
is grown around.

A knock at the door
is no one,

just sound.




Image attribution: “DSC02182” by hellothomas via Creative Commons