as he sits in the pews between his alcoholism and his wrath,
I wonder if he feels more at home among those sinners
than he ever felt with me.

they say the tongue is the strongest
muscle in the human body,
but his locked jaw has wounded me more
than any weaponry he contains behind those teeth.

a phantom limb I am plagued with:
sometimes, I feel like he cares.
sometimes, I hurt at words he never speaks,
like have a safe flight,
or you have always been enough.

in church, we were taught
that the words god and father were interchangeable.
when I stopped believing in god,
I wonder if he watched his bloodline run thin.
I wonder if it ached.