Pushcart 2026 L: Michael Mark, “Devotion” (poetry) from Birmingham Poetry Review #51

Because no tools can be carried on the plane, I buy them at the Home Depot near his apartment and sneak into my father’s building through the Service Only entrance. Dad’s Ford has more dents. One of the major problems I have with poetry is figuring out why something is a poem, rather than a flash fiction or non-fiction. I have that problem here, which normally means I wouldn’t post about it. But I found the content to be outstanding, so I’ll wrestle with form later. At first, given the violence of the attack on the car – puncture, stab – it seems this is a kid vandalizing his father’s car out of malice, maybe for wrongs done in the past, or following a bitter argument, refusal of help, something like that. But it becomes clear midway through that something else is going on. I hear him tell me, when he’s driving, he feels like 50. You drive like you’re 95, I say in a laugh because he’s 96 and I’m afraid to be direct. He takes it as a compliment. It’s one of those horrendous moments…