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Miss Percival's famous jell-o molds were
the talk of every summer block party.
No one was sure where she had come up with
exotic shapes that adorned red benches
robins, and faces of famous people
they really were a thing to be envied.

One Memorial Day, though, there came a shriek from Miss Percival's kitchen
and the flowery curtains shuffled as they did so

The first ones in (the couple that brought the waldorf salad every year. It was good, but it was nothing next to Miss P's jell-o molds)
were Mr. and Mrs. Carroway
Mrs. Carroway almost fainted when she saw what was on the counter

You see, Miss Percival was fond of one site for her molds
and they shipped them in every month in big brown crates
there was a big brown crate, to be sure
but no mold inside

It isn't proper to gossip, but I heard that it was a bowl full of eyeballs;
A medical school had put the wrong address on their order.
I bet that there was a confused batch of medical students
being stared at by a jell-o model of Walter Cronkite.
Fights
     They throw words like little hand grenades
because in our house, we cannot use fists
       (I feel that those would hurt less)
and he,
small boy full of rage and sound and not much else
with fists balled to tight
each wanting to strike out, to break his sister's stupid face

Searching through the catacombs of his mind he thought only of falling through a war chest
searching for some sharpened bone or anything to use
he was a skilled warrior of the shadows
with one jab he could ****** thorns through her guarded heart
the precision of a sibling ****** on his side
he had wounded her before
he almost always won
but his wretched
sister
refused to lose this time
refused to be out manipulated

She too had been training
sharpening a silver tongue
that usually served as a shield to her brother's barbs and wicked advances
but today it was a dagger
and assassin for the old king

"You never loved me," he lunged with a flourish
She parried with a cuss word and a sigh
he danced aside, and jabbed at her flank
"I'm going to jump off the cliff" he declared
she scowled
this move usually did her in, but with one glare, she kicked the sword from his hand, and rounded upon him
no fencing foil was on her, no seemly battle ax
but a dagger
and she drew in close
the killing blow
"You are only my half brother" she whispered
and he
was vanquished

The battle done, the two sunk to their knees
and sobbed

Fights
    They throw words like little hand grenades
because in our house, we cannot use fists
       (I feel that those would hurt less)
Uncle Bruce writes sermons and gives grace at the Christmas table
his family bowed their heads
and listened to what they thought of as
"quaint"
"old time-y"

Most of them there were atheists
or maybe Catholics
(it depended on the side of the table)
and even Uncle Bruce was not sure what he believed in, not yet, not yet
after 53 years, he wasn't sure
(he had always been a smart man)
even after debating how many angels could dance on the head of a pin
and preaching for years behind the pulpit

What Uncle Bruce does know, he does
He gives us all faith
I tried to bake
you cookies but it seems like
I am a hippo
I live
In America,
in a suburb by the woods
where the city is just a sneeze away,
but just too far to touch.
And the fireworks at the baseball games rattle my windows at night
and the 10:15 train rattles by
on time
every night

She lives
In Japan
in a little town by the sea
I was there once, among the rice and water
and we both biked to school.
And the cranes that loaded the massive ships loomed over our lives
and the hush of a small town woke me
ever
single
night
It hit him hard
and he was left dizzy and reeling
from the collision between his ears
and Penny's mouth

Still laid up in bed
she had been there for almost a year
a year since something else
hit her hard

Every day Kyle had visited
and waited for her to wake up
and the doctors warned that may never happen
but here she was

What were her first words when she woke up?

"Kyle," she asked.
Her voice was quiet
almost deleted by the hum of a dozen machines that had watched her as diligently as her husband had
but to Kyle, they were the bells on their wedding day

"Kyle," she asked, as he grasped her had tightly
the hand that, for the first time in a year, held his back,

"Where's the baby?"
A father
Two fathers
I have two
Well, I have one

He cares for me. He is there.
Occasionally, he annoys the
ever
living
daylights
out of me
and he admits that
he cannot understand me
and that that frightens him more than anything.

I want to tell him that my ever present sadness
and the fear which, at times, threatens to vibrate my bones to jelly
till it drips out and down my fingertips
sticky and hot and red red red
I want to tell him that it is not all his fault

But my other father.

I never knew him
but mom says I have his wit
and his artistic flare
she only said that once
and we both cried

tried to email him
round about a year ago
no response

It is your fault, in part
not yours alone
but I cannot help but to resent you
you coward
nothing but a coward
left me when I was not even out and in the light
never once did my blue eyes see you
Did you know?
They look like yours.

A father
Two fathers
I have two
Well, I have one
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