laying on the floor to be repaired
the old man felt the hatred
and resented that it had
never been expressed,
wishing he had know years earlier
so he could have given
her the freedom she needed.
and the boy called out for his father
but his father wasn't there...
he called out for his mother and
she appeared... so, he asked about his father
and she said he had no father...
there was only this lover she'd known for years.
I prayed for your death
and mine as well...
half were answered.
his fists were raised in anger,
he yelled as he shook them,
a nightly fury unleashed and
the rain fell on parched soil.
I called my house and a strange
man answered saying my wife
was now his and I was thought
to have been killed in the war.
not to succeed... who'd have
thought after all these years
that they would be right.
I sat in the chair as you ordered,
the blood from my loins dripped
into the bowl below... you yelled
at me for being messy as you sat
on the brown lap of your lover.
deep into my arms your fingernails went
breaking the skin...
to the bone they probed,
hacking away at it like firewood,
I begged for mercy and you said I
should have thought about that before.
is it possible to raise a child
that is a snob?
a child that looks down their nose
at you and who you are.
the rules were set a long time ago
and we must play the game by them,
it is not ethical nor is it moral to change
the rules to suit our conveniences...
it is critical that we adhere to this
process or simply not play the game.
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