My father's anger,
Like the knives
In the drawer
In the kitchen
Are in need of
Constant sharpening.
And so they are,
With each metallic scrape,
More insidious than before.
There are no words I can say
Or want to say
That will lure him away
From
His voice, or
His temper.
Take a bite of my brittle heart,
And see how it tastes
When no blood
Remains.
Like a child
I am small,
Like a fly on the wall.
One swat and I disappear,
Or come crashing down
As a chandelier,
And only then
Will I be loud enough
For you to hear.
Be feared,
Be feared,
I have only one ear,
And with it
I listen to all the wrong things.
He plucked out my eyes
When I was young,
And made new ones.
Only now,
I see
Just like
Him.















