God of Our Youth
Now we bury the childhood that died
with the mother and won’t be buried.
Now we undo the days that have failed
to embrace our births and will not be undone.
Now we push at deepening cold that won’t
be pushed, beseech the God of our youth
to take back all he’s taken away. Too much
of memory is gone without her. Nothing
is tethered inside the room where the
God of our youth will not be moved.
Scott Davidson grew up in Montana, worked as a Poet in the Schools and lives with his wife in Missoula. His poems have appeared in Southwest Review, Bright Bones: Contemporary Montana Writing, and the Permanent Press anthology Crossing the River: Poets of the Western United States.