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Lawrence Kaplun: Birthmark

November 17, 2015 by PBQ

I was my father’s confidante. I was a child

so I didn’t understand what he told me.

But the goal was just to listen. We shared

a birthmark. I have it near my left ear.

Sometimes he took me to McDonalds

where we shared a plastic booth.

I asked, how are you, like a friend.

One night, he said, I am thinking

of leaving your mother. He said,

I am sad, I am lonely. I remember

the first time he taught me

those words. No words

in Russian—Latvia, where he lived

for thirty-one years before moving

to Ohio, and then Chicago, where he met

my mother from a classified ad.

He circled her name with a pen.

He had hopes that being in love

resulted in something.

Filed Under: Contributors 92, Issue 92, Poetry, Poetry 92 Tagged With: Contributors 92, Lawrence Kaplun, Poetry, Poetry 92

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