and i'm the boy you can't ignore

 

there is a girl
who has had her hand
caught in the machinery

who has had her arm
pulled into the blades then torn off
and she will live for two more weeks
and then she will die

and there is a house
down the street from mine
where the children write
JESUS RULES
on the sidewalk in pastel chalk
and then the next day it rains and
summer is over

my fingers crack and bleed

my need for language fades away
and the silence in this place becomes
a tangible thing

my wife and son sleep
in the next room

my childhood keeps an
uneasy distance

 

what i remember
is my father drunk

not on any particular occasion
but always
and at some point we became strangers
and then enemies

 

no reasons were asked for and
none given
and i can't seem to stop
whipping myself for these things
i can't change

the sky has no color and
nothing i hold casts
a shadow

nothing i love is permanent

and what the hell can i do
with these facts but drown?