Jeff (Some Version of the Truth)

You were so little

when Aunt Nancy brought you by

the first time,

and I loved to watch you dance

as I huffed and puffed

on the harmonica.

Years later,

when going through photo albums

someone asked of you

“Who’s the Black kid?”

At first, I didn’t see the color,

but eventually

I pieced

some version of the truth together

as I’m sure you must have.

As far as I know,

you’ve never been told

who fathered you,

and maybe your mom

doesn’t know,

and maybe your dad

never knew that

he had a son.

I doubt

knowing the truth

would help now

as you sit in the penitentiary

with your admission of guilt

and life sentence

without chance for parole

for killing your girlfriend’s mother

because you believed

the allegations of her abuse.

I’m sorry you thought

your girlfriend

was telling you the truth

too.