A Father's Love For A Teenage Son Poem by Mark Heathcote

Who gave that almighty yell?
Like a giant with a rotten toothache
'What-in-Lucifers name' this sour taste?
'What in damnations name' that awful smell?
The likes of some teenage Jesus
One who hasn't?
Changed his innocence or his britches?
Since-first-he-had erroneous boyish itches.
Then God, with his thunderbolts
Struck; plunged a toothpick!
And dislodged the mucus; and sighed
'Begone my son' into the world of madmen.
And there finds a dovecot-house
In a child's heart: Sublunary,
White as the driven snow
And there smothers it as your own
With giant bellows toxic groan.