Free Verse Poem by Mason Pfaff
Flowers on every road lead me to my gravestones There's a blue box, my heirloom. A white stone white stone A name not my own I'll smell every one, I'll find my name in the Popol Vuh. White stone, white stone Bearing your maiden name Palm branches laid on Monday Skipped town Friday, what I would do I do not know. White stone, white stone My father's name is put on me Names I do not know. Names that came before etched on a blue box, my heirloom for storage White stone, white stone My father's name has grown on me I visit the old creek; It trickles as before, When my dog brought back a deer antler And I fell in through the ice White stone, white stone My father's sins my own No names underwater, No names beneath the ice I breathe the cold water, I reach the river's mouth There, with all from before, Soon, with all yet to be. No white stone, no white stone, I know all the names, The blue box is full and passed down again No white stone, oh white stone, I know this name, Oh, white stone, oh white stone It is my own, it is my own, it is my own
Mason Pfaff, a 25-year-old residing in Milwaukee, WI, balances his time between his day job, household chores, and writing endeavors. Outside of his commitments, he enjoys gardening, whittling, and boxing. His literary focus lies primarily in crafting short stories. He draws inspiration from authors such as Thomas Pynchon, Flannery O’Connor, Roberto Bolaño, J.M. Coetzee, and Giorgio De Maria.
