Dread dad’s migraine,
constrained, rigid along
couch, streams of blood
shuffling opaque dreams,
 

mine-shafts, constriction,
encephalitis contracted
first that Christmas, my sister
sore, a swell ’neath mama’s
 

chiffon. He nearly croaked.
Said. Miracle… Flash a decade.
On the love-seat, Mama
perspires dew-like, binds
 

my sister’s hair, coils even
in a bronze light, stark
as fate on each etching,
these facades mask a stirring.
 

Stern like God, Mama still
won’t move, just stare obligation
as I square, swing along
ceramics, tilt on tiles, nudge
 

kitchen drawers. They creak.
Will Their Eyes, blue lampshade
See? I return, want to touch
his thick beard, so sharp amid
 

angles, his chin. I want to hurt.
Like you father, grunting, cleaving
IV’s like tinsel-blades from each
crease of elbow, my Spectacle!
 

Show me the mark, not gleam,
shadow on white teeth, this low rag,
banner I offer, Father, ugly as need.
Maybe I’ll cuss today, maybe sing.