dust & anger

by dm gillis

this isn’t why my mother had me
rooms of dust & anger
but maybe my father did—
had me like you’ve been had
he was funny that way (ha comma ha)
whereas my mother
(the Casserole Goddess)
had me in innocence
raising me first with patience
then disappointment then
epiphany as the neighbourhood swayed
my father smoked
& the gallant automobiles of the sixties
slept at the curb &
much later when we spread her ashes
(always stand up wind when spreading your mother’s ashes)
watching what was left of me
she grinned in the trees

 

 

 

 

 

 

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