my age, father paints an abstract jesus.
mother has the kitchen to herself and sits.
mother watches my brother lift a chair and leave.

my sister lets the train pass and bites at the shoulder strap
of her bra.

not my age, I draw a violinist. draw a dog at the neck
of its owner.

there are those who would forgive our debt.
there are those who would not.

I prefer god’s early work.
at my age, apple. apple and rope.