and thunder pulsated
going from ear to ear
my mind struggled to keep quiet
it was an endless battle
as I was drawn into
the hurricane
am I really him
the man I call my father?
She was amused by my gullability
her knee-length fiery, carrot hair
camouflaged her docile temperament
youthful, smooth skiin
that later in life became
lined like a road map
raw umber eyes
darted icicles
am I really her
the woman I call my mother?
I relish the idea
of having been a drop of sperm
slumbering in his scrotum
seconds before
being released by his excitment
and connected to
a mono molecule
They clink and clash
their warm liquids
mixing in a frenzy of passion
that excite and tease for
an encore performance
as he continues to abuse
his private punching bags
they conceive the choas
the unwanted pregnacy
of their first born
a forced marriage
the battle of the Irish and Scots
comes alive in their house
I remember waiting anxiously
for Christmas mornings
the Easter bunnies
my birthdays...
joyous occassions,
then as the last relative left
the closing of the door
pounded in my mind
as it silently
clicked behind me
Night silence always
passed so peacefully
when dawned appeared
I got up in a hurry
flopped at the chrome table
saw the whiteness
of the undissolved salt
settled in my milk
like in the Dead Sea,
discovered dog excrement
decorating my cold cereal
forced to swallow my breakfast
cynically thrown
in front of me
by my baby-sitting 'cousin'
One day I crouched
on the basement stairs
my back firmly pressed
to the pine door
total blackness
focused in my dilated pupils
fear of ghosts
and viscious dogs
danced in the company of
fresh memories of bizarre requests
spewing from twisted minds
flashing images
of his brown-terry cloth robe
lazily laid open
to expose his erected member
a leather belt snaked
in his left hand
a silver buckle
winked before it greeted me
On my tenth birthday
I was blindfolded
led from room to room
stopped
thrown on a cool-tiled floor
his masculine odor
of rye-tobacco breath
and cheap shaving lotion
reached my nostrils
His masculine hands
overpower my child's body
he guided my right hand
until my fingertips
touch smooth, fresh skin
jabbing my wrist further
as my fingers
graazed coarse hair
the wire prickled my palm
(continued)
