Portrait

He was strength.

He was orange cigarette embers in the evening blue

like stars in an alien universe where 

I was cherished 

and everything smelled like campfire.

A sweaty green ball cap

infused with that same alien smoke,

dirt and gasoline

pressed up against my yearning,

lonely nose.

He hugged me in the kitchen

after Nana died and I was

so carefully safe

until the moment broke.

 

He is grimy, now

with his Chinese water torture drawl

like idle, punishing drips;

all soppy, sickly paleness,

living in his bloated coma and I don’t even know

what drink has rotted him.

I don’t even know

I should know my daddy’s drink.

Ears pressed to eggshell walls

eggshell floors

a careful eggshell home

where I grin big in mute bondage

(my mother oh my god

please not my mother that’s my

mother)

I grin big,

and so it goes

Author's Note

work in progress. struggling to say big things with small words.

Reviews

[Kelley Quinn]

There's no way to make the bullet points without the grey boxes for some reason. But if you have a "special characters" option on your computer, you can add in little bullet marks instead of making the website do it for you. Then you won't have the boxes.