Paladin

Waxen-lipped caricature,
Cheeks too full of blush.
His eyes, lids locked at long last.
Paladin. Fallen fatherhero.

My brother’s hand, my shoulder.
She is crying again.
Standing alone in a crowd,
My mother’s mascara flees down her face.

She was his springtide.
She was his summer.
She was his.

My own tears, like falling stars,
Are inadequate.