Family heirlooms
The kitchen chairs slowly turn to face the TV,
and the parents quit asking (even during commercials)
but want to know more then ever–
hoping to be a friend,
afraid to rebuke, terrified to be rebuked,
as if respect and obedience aren’t
parent and child:
family heirlooms in the hands of the childless.
Don’t stop breathing
Don’t stop dancing–
falling down stairs
in a one story ranch house.
Don’t stop breathing child–
the violent blue will return
to skin, violently healing.
Broken is the mind and swollen
the fingers around a rock
fighting for focus away
from a mind, four times as old.
Cold are the roads away from any Father
that chases.
Drugged on fear since the first night
Drugged on fear since the first night,
Haunted by images of wrists clutched tight,
Forgotten your Father’s advice.
Said he wanted love, but he will suffice
Running so far, so fast; lost the way home.
Mind’s bruises are blue-er than your sensitive skin tone,
He might be worried, regress to one of his hourly fits.
Have you called in your location in the last 5 minutes?
Before you decide suicide during your nightly cries,
I hope you will leave someday; to realize
That pain’s not your fault and never was your blame.
He picked you, but why’d you change your last name?