Generational Curses

the things my grandparents taught my parents, who taught me, for better or for worse

My father is his father’s son

a strong, hardworking, distant man.

I can never see through my father’s calm facade 

except his seething quiet. I know the rolling boil.

My inner world is not quite secret from my father, merely

a book left on a high shelf we always mean to read 

but never quite get around to.

After all, I am my father’s child.

According to my mother,

her mother was complicated

bipolar and obsessed with image.

Momma learned to adapt to these tides

pivot on a dime.

Maybe she taught me, too.

We chameleon to fit easy with our company.

We trade ourselves away to maintain peace.

Author's Note

I'm open to any and all constructive critique!