Monday, 19 December 2011

further away

A man came to the door
With a defrosting turkey
under his arm
With red sunken eyes
He says, I don’t want to fight no more
This is for your Thanksgiving
He hands me the damp warming bird
and turns and walks away.

My mom comes down the stairs
With a dust covered shoebox
under her arm
With sunken eyes
She says, We might have to fight some more
That man was your father
As she hands me photographs from inside
and turns and walks away

I go to the door
With my sleeping bag under my arm
With red sunken eyes
I say nothing anymore
I am alone in and outside this room
I close the door behind me
I walk away without looking back.

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