you tell yourself
the smaller they are…

you see a cloud, a hospital
for a bird…

but then you’re six
and your sister’s boyfriend
is ripping out your hair
in clumps.

your brother is the storm before the storm.

your father doesn’t have cancer
your father is ******
during a longer period
of being
left alone.

pain is your mother in labor.
a time machine that only goes to the present.

most days your son can’t move a muscle.
looks bored to life.