Singing with my son,
I clapped my hands
Just as lightning struck.
It was dumb luck.
But my son, awed, thought
I’d created the electricity.
He asked, “Dad, how'd you do that?”
Before I could answer,
thunder shook the house
And set off neighborhood car alarms.
“Dad,” he said. “Can you burn
down that tree outside my window?
The one that looks like a giant owl?”
O, my little disciple, my one boy choir,
I can’t do that
because your father,
your half-assed messiah,
is afraid of fire.
© 2008 Sherman Alexie
is the author of 19 books of poetry and prose, including
The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian
His new book of poems, Face, is due out in early 2009 from Hanging Loose Press.
He lives in Seattle with his wife and sons.
