One Mourning

I was 11,

& had yet
To bottle
My tears

For others

Consumption,

Til My father
Threatened
To drop me
Off at Church
Steps & Leave.

—-

My mother
Begged him

To “go to
Church
Therapy”,

“Look in
The Mirror,”
To witness
The Anger

pumping
Through

His veins,

|_| Bulging

Out |_| his

: – :Eyes: – :

—-

I was
Always an
Observant
Child.

My mother
Used to say

I was able
To tell
Where we
Were by
Recognizing
Tree tops

From Back
Seat of her
94’ Camero

[It’s air
Thick with
Aerosmith
Cassettes
& Pungent
Perfume],

Even When
I Was barely
Old enough
To see out.

—-

That cold
Morning
I wished

I Was too
Young to
See out.

That

Morning,

I got
in the
Car as

Fear.

A child
Uncertain
Where I
Would be
Dropped.

a mini Van
passenger,

Riding
Uncertain
Leather
Waves,

Crying &
Begging
not To be
Abandoned.

He replied,

“Stop your
Crying, or
I’ll give you
Something
To really
Cry about”;

Brandishing
his Words,
Like A belt.

—-

Our church
Was down the
Street from
My day-camp,

And I arrived
That morning;
Sobbing thick
And. .uneven
Breaths. . . I.

Couldn’t stop.
.Crying. when.
I. . got there. .,
And. . . . .the
Counselors. . .
Asked. me. . .
If I. . was. okay?.

My father,


still Lurking
Nearby, to
Sign me In,

Glared at me
Like——

——if I said
A word—I’d
Have—No—
More Home to

Go home to.

—-

I learned how
To lie My way
into Egyptian
Rat screw
That day. . . .

Slap the cards
Whenever I saw
|-||Doubles||-|.

Not to take
Any Jacks
For granted.

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s