1191

feet in the haze

when your father
when your father
missed his date
passed his date
went away
done with his time
your mother
northern and proud
drunk and smoking
alone
with the four of us
creaking
your brother’s bones
creaking
waiting for
waiting for the right
moment to
there was nothing to give
just jars
stories
of him
in blue and grey and wire
faking and breathing and
holding
but you
a little beetle
veering out of the moment
honing in on the
honing in on what you gave
vomiting and sore
me
laughing on the carpet
hungry but laughing
watching
you
years before
your father
missed
decided
missed his last
that was his last
his last
then
so many faces
and you
later
fucking your friend’s partner
on the sleeping bag
later
me
breaking promises
coiled blanket
drunk and poisoned
all those years
our poison season
our poison season
our last season
Robert
S.
what was your middle name
anyway?
M.