I carried you on my back
Like a sack of potatoes.
Back and forth and back and forth
Caught between Daddy Issues and
Words that call forth memories
That call forth pain that call forth
Vomiting Monday nights before therapy.
All of our VHS boxes are packed up neatly
In the attic between old photo albums of
Broken family after broken family after
Generations who don’t know each other’s
Stories. We’re fucked up.
That’s all we’ve ever been as a family.
And she sings jellyfish clouds
While he rhymes puppydog tears
Somewhere between the nature of agender,
One gender, two gender, red gender, blue gender.
They’re the first kid in generations to write.
They’re the first kid in generations to escape.
They’re the first kid in generations with mirtazapine dreams.
And no one lets them forget it.