Crosshairs

Abstract

Crosshairs William Fargason (bio) I buy my father a Father's Day cardwith a deer on the front, its fur gold-embossed like a struck coin. After I lie on the inside,I hesitate. Should I tell him how I feel and ruin his day? Hi Dad, thanks for teaching mehow not to be a father. Hope you have a nice day without me. Before I put the card in the envelope,I draw a crosshair on the front shoulder of the deer with a permanent marker.I only know how to relate to my father through death. He taught me to aimfor the shoulder—it will go through the heart, then the lungs if you're at the right angle,each shoulder blade breaking under the impact. The deer will be easy to track.If the card designer meant for that deer to represent the strength and beauty of allfathers, then I am killing my own father in front of him. So be it. He won't understandthe crosshairs as a choice to use the symbols [End Page 115] he gave me against him, the barrelof my pen hot in my hand. When my father opens the card and sees I haven't forgottenthe lessons of death he taught me, he will smile. [End Page 116] William Fargason William Fargason is the author of Love Song to the Demon-Possessed Pigs of Gadara (University of Iowa Press, 2020), winner of the 2019 Iowa Poetry Prize and the 2020 Florida Book Award in Poetry (Gold Medal). His poetry has appeared in The Threepenny Review, New England Review, Barrow Street, Prairie Schooner, Poetry Northwest, The Cincinnati Review, Narrative, and elsewhere. He earned an MFA in Poetry from the University of Maryland and a PhD in Poetry from Florida State University. He lives with himself in Sparks Glencoe, Maryland, where he serves as the poetry editor at Split Lip Magazine. Copyright © 2022 Berea College ...