Isaac
I remember what I was thinking
that long walk home
with a father who was willing to kill me,
and an unseen God
to whom my father was talking.
And what of the ram in the thicket:
what had it done?
Was it guilty because of its penis?
What then of sons?
It wasn't a question I could ask.
So I walked on home,
my father's hand on my shoulder,
by myself alone.