My dad's ego was the pillow
by which he smothered the family.
He brought The Commandments
down from Mount Fatherhood.

We were heretics if we questioned
his Testament of Rules for Living.
He provided Bitter Soup for the Soul:
Put everything in the vise.

He claimed it out of affection, but
it was from the pits of the id.
His superego was malleable, but
not anyone else's.

He is gone and so is mother. The rest
of us are buried in his legacy, struggling
to escape the dung in which we live as
we fight demons of baser nature.