I am an unruly child; I
drink in bed and create
messes and tell lies
all the time.
I'm late, I disobey.
I don't eat over the table
or chew my food
or say I love you enough.
I exclude. I avoid.
And when I say to
behave one way
and act another,
I want you to understand;
I am an unruly child
no one to look to,
trying to guide you.

From her lessons in independence we learnt that everyone leaves,
Abandonment as sure a fact of life
                                                                ­                                            as death.

We learnt that love was transactional,
A currency,
A receipted ***-for-tat tete-a-tete.

At the altar we were shown lies,
In the white dress a million yes’s but the question was never till death.

I could walk through darkness without worry,
I’d never been shown the danger,
Been encouraged to see an enemy in calories but not strangers.

We learnt to lie to avoid bruises,
Wooden spoons used for more than stirring soup,
The salt burning streaks down our faces when the *** boiled over the stove top.

Truths ignored and lies inelegant
We learnt to wield fists with tongues  
Sparring for our lives.
Cautiously awaiting the
whistle pop
truth drop
wished unsaid
upon
impact.

He is off to devour the babysitter

No need for shoes in the summer heat

No need for pants inside the house

Three steps at a time, tiny claws awhir
Tyrannosaurus teeth aching to crunch the bones of his Brazilian prey



Sometimes I remember to move carefully around his loud, joyful willingness

Or I don't remember

And tear a fat chunk of adventure out of him with a stinging rebuke



But he is a T-Rex with two tons to spare

I want to hug
my son's son
60 years from now.

With beauty,
and pain,
and wonder,
and heartbreak
written into the lines
across my face.

Telling him
he is enough.
He'll always be enough.

do not expect for this to be a poem about love.

I owe you, right?
you gave birth to me,
which means I should be grateful that you didn't yell at me today.
thank you then.

I tell you I am hurt by your words,
but I should be sorry for being hurt by you?
I am sorry then.
it will not happen again.

I ask to close my door,
but this is your house.
you ask for me to clean your mess,
now it's my house too, right.

I need to take care of myself,
I'm starting to feel better.
I am wrong, you come first
I owe you every last breath.

I avoid the mirror.
I will look fat no matter what.
I wonder where I got this from.
thank you for my self-hatred.

see I have finally realized something,
parenting was your job,
not mine.
so why the **** was I doing it?

I do not owe you anything.
you chose to have me,
you chose to raise me.
you failed but I have to pay?

I have come up with two words for your parenting style,
mental abuse.

I know they love my me

I just wish it was the same love that your supposed to have

I wish they tried

I wish they at least pretended to try