Image by Jahongiri Smoilov from Unsplash
Zachery Noah Rahn (he/him) is a queer poet and essayist with a bachelor's in Writing & Linguistics from Georgia Southern University. He enjoys watching horror movies, rollerblading, and spending time with his cat. You can find his work in Alien Literary Magazine, Stone of Madness Press, mutiny! magazine, and select other journals. Follow him on Twitter @zacheryrahn
Gas Station Boys
my father loved me
until I was twelve
then jumped in front of a semi
two days after, a closed casket
no one knew he was cremated
his mother wouldn’t bear the truth
like all good sons
I kneeled at the pulpit
I learned to reminisce
I learned to respect
now, I park behind gas stations
and conjure his spirit
but a haunting image ghosts me like boys
too cut too ripped too lean for me
I’d told each before
don’t leave me
tell me who I am
but their shadows wreck me whole
by the time I die
seal my casket tight
my mother would suffocate
knowing that I drop
to my knees and beg
gas station boys to stay
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