Beer Cans
I remember the afternoon we spent alone in the woods
Putting bullets in beer cans
With amber filtered through the green
As if someone had taken reality and cocooned it in spider silk, softened.
But we didn’t embrace that softness, just left it hovering in the atmosphere
Because I was teaching you how to defend yourself.
That’s how I got you to tell me about the things your dad made you do as a little boy
And  impressed you because I understood why you cried for a week after.
That’s when I told you about my parents, a money marriage with fondness on a good day.
I remember the jokes you made when you kept missing
And I never forgot how your hands trembled-
You hated firing that gun, even at beer cans,
But I wanted to make sure you could defend yourself
So you told me I had a Lady Liberty complex,
And I said no;
I had a Mamma Bear complex.
To which you replied that I didn’t have an interest in being your mother,
I wanted to be your safety and your fresh start; your guiding beacon of strength.
And maybe you’re right. Lady Liberty and the Independence Day.
I won’t forget you as long as I live.
[Rest of the poem isn’t here, but is on Medium.]