Inheritances

by John Grey

As he squeezed the teats and dodged
the antsy right leg of the cow,
he explained to me how this was a burden
handed down through the generations
of squeezers and dodgers, and that
someday it would all be my responsibility.

At that same moment, downtown, a father
was showing a son how to stock the hardware shelves
and a mother flapped family recipes in her daughter's face
like they were flags of the country she too would live in.

Choices be damned. Children of accountants
would someday join the old firm.
Cops gave birth to mini-cops,
mailmen to mail boys and girls.

“But what if I want to be a fireman?” I asked my old man.
He looked at me angrily, his face aflame.
“Don't worry,” I quickly replied.
“I'll work the farm when you're gone.”
That put his fire out.

John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident, recently published in Orbis, Dalhousie Review, and the Round Table. Latest books, “Leaves On Pages” and “Memory Outside The Head” are available through Amazon. Work upcoming in Lana Turner and Hollins Critic.