Sunday, August 14, 2016

August 14

This month we're writing "After Poems."


  1. Nowhere to run
    (after Robert Frost's
    "Death of a hired hand)

    Covering our lives when we were three
    Kids back from the ceremony of our mom's
    Sara the oldest was treating us to a
    Lunch at the nearby Mexican restaurant

    Asking me, the youngest of our threesome
    "how lucky you were to leave first from home"

    I was lucky to have left at thirteen to live
    with dad, as he was overjoyed to have me
    leave mom's as it was a tearful torment to
    be pulled out of the place familiar
    I told Sara, "When I came home to mom's
    after being gone for three and a half years
    I felt like it was coming home to a circus
    while she surrounded herself with clowns
    to replace me and having the bongs and the
    kegs and the partying twenty four seven

    She said that is why I left after you came back
    Always cleaning up after everyone
    when she gave me the choice to do
    the dishes of turn over your house key
    So I gave her the key

    My other sister being one year older
    than me and a year younger than Sara
    Said as she had tears welling up

    At least you were not married off at
    a young age of sixteen by dad
    After all, it was an abusive
    relationship and I had to come
    back like you. Dad just wanted
    us to get as far away from mom
    as possible

    The family coming home was like
    moving away, as far as we could
    to make ourselves
    a lost kindred

    Never to find home without leaving first
    The three agree it was for the best
    To get out of mom's clutches
    As I say, "Remember when we
    Looked up the word
    Responsibility in the dictionary, Sara?"
    We were following dad and his influence
    on our journey
    When mom was never
    going to grow up
    That is all we had to do
    was to get out of the house
    Which she said always was
    suppose to be there to come
    back to

    It was all a lie
    Never to return
    Though meant for
    our coming home