Heresy
I waited forever for my parents to die so I could say at least one true thingbut mean. And so I wouldn’t die myself with those two unaccounted for
in a Hades of voles and worse. The die-hards that they were? I wanted to say it.The riot of horror and all out foxy that those two together were when I was a kid
living in a house called Malt and Rye that meant that they’d abandon me?I wanted to get at least that right. Oh and how he said “thang” and she “britches.”
Her caftans. His bandanas. His girlfriends. His cigarettes. Her cigarettes& handmade quilt for every kid. Their lack of God. Their absolute lack lack lack
of God. And then my parents did die after living a number of other storiesnot necessarily all…
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The American Poetry Review (Digital) - 1 Issue, May/June 2024