My only resignation
Your brother, about legal age now
Stopped cold turkey
Fixed, cold giblets
Mixed, with so much garbage
Regular, standard waste
Perhaps more carefully segregated
To insure no cross contamination
Salmonella, or shipping container disease
Just a ragged shape of a woman
After all these years
Maybe a small incision in my collar
Or some broken face bones
Your sister, the same
Maybe driving age
A wreck of a circumstance
Her mother, all stuffed down, turned inside out with guilt
Her midsection showing the viscous pathways
Something a child has no respect for
Much less a child making a child
Making a child king
Or a princess bed or princess cut
Princesses bleed
Like hellfire on a tar pit
And then there is your mother
The saint
The deviation from chaos
The pace maker
Allowing us all to die
With honor
And slowly
Lowly subjects, sacrificed
All of us, little rams
Being offered to mushy fathers
For food or discontent
Sexual objects or random pitfalls
Greedy chipped claw hands
Full of guts with none of their own
Taking the corners fast
Leaving flakes of glass
Gravel imbedded in skin
Or worse, nothing
Just a rocking chair
Or television on mute
With closed captions
Turned ON
--
5.23.12
Your brother, about legal age now
Stopped cold turkey
Fixed, cold giblets
Mixed, with so much garbage
Regular, standard waste
Perhaps more carefully segregated
To insure no cross contamination
Salmonella, or shipping container disease
Just a ragged shape of a woman
After all these years
Maybe a small incision in my collar
Or some broken face bones
Your sister, the same
Maybe driving age
A wreck of a circumstance
Her mother, all stuffed down, turned inside out with guilt
Her midsection showing the viscous pathways
Something a child has no respect for
Much less a child making a child
Making a child king
Or a princess bed or princess cut
Princesses bleed
Like hellfire on a tar pit
And then there is your mother
The saint
The deviation from chaos
The pace maker
Allowing us all to die
With honor
And slowly
Lowly subjects, sacrificed
All of us, little rams
Being offered to mushy fathers
For food or discontent
Sexual objects or random pitfalls
Greedy chipped claw hands
Full of guts with none of their own
Taking the corners fast
Leaving flakes of glass
Gravel imbedded in skin
Or worse, nothing
Just a rocking chair
Or television on mute
With closed captions
Turned ON
--
5.23.12
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