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Conversations With My Father

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Neither of us is attentive I stopped listening when I was younger When he was younger too Back then he spoke in anger And listened to the bottle I shrank from his words Learned to distrust them I could say nothing that interested him He is older now, but communication hasn’t improved He listens to the book now Taking notice of little else He talks in feigned meekness Forgetting willfully the past barbarity My trust hasn’t recovered as fully as my bones His softer up-to-date language Does not penetrate my skin We talk,  but only superficially We speak, but it is formulaic And mundane We exchange words, But neither of us really says anything In a way The empty bland chatter hurts worse  Than the belts and backhands In another way It hurts far worse.
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Swarm

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Myriad thoughts skitter across the surface of my brain Like a growing swarm of carrion beetles Each moves according to its own internal instinct Gnawing here, writhing there Crawling over one another Trying to find a way in The buzzing and churning are driving me mad Weakening my defenses In time I will succumb I will be infested with the vile scourge The fight will be over And I will have lost.
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Moment by Moment

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      When we happen to be in the same room By luck or fate or happenstance I urge each second to stretch To expand into minutes, days, lifetimes I want to live in the fleeting insignificant moments Drinking each small adjustment Studying each minute gesture Submerging myself in all of her words This is not to be The seconds slip by, rushed Minutes escape, moment by moment I stumble and stammer I feel clumsy and out of place and out of time My thoughts fall like pine cones on the forest floor The seconds burn away like dry brush in a fire And she is gone again I am left with sooty memories of scattered glimpses.
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These Final Days

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    I spent the morning getting things ready I sharpened my tools I packed my provisions Arranged them into a convenient bundle That nestled comfortably between my shoulder blades Then I started climbing Hours later I reached the summit The apex of my world Cloudless sky in every direction The entirety of the mountain under my feet I can see the dark forest from here I can see the dank swamp And I can see my grey house They are closer than I remember I don’t want to go back I will die free on this peak Rather than return to those traps I will rest here, these final days.
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Minefield

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  Taking slow, measured steps Like walking in a minefield There is concealed danger in every direction Carnage a footstep away I am nearly paralyzed with fear But I can’t stay here I am wounded I need medical attention If I don’t get out of here, I will die I gingerly test the earth with each new step Knowing that the smallest mistake Will be catastrophic.
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To No One's Surprise

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  I had a feeling Deep and disquieting I worried that this might happen There was a chance I could be wrong But I wasn’t To no one’s surprise, You met my abysmal expectations I am trying to help you I want to help you But you must contribute also If you want to get better You must put in the work Do you? Do you want to get better? I’ll keep trying if you will start.
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The Ritual

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  At sunrise the ritual will begin again I will be awakened at first light I will scrape the impurities from my skin Wrap myself with the ceremonial garments I must ingest the foul tonic A moment to embrace my family Craft my farewells Then I start the journey to the village square I will meet with the elders I will be questioned Guided Tested They will judge me If I am deemed worthy, the ritual will repeat If not, if the elders disapprove I will be banished To live a life outside Where resources are scarce Where I may starve, or worse With fortune I have pleased the elders so far I have lasted longer than most Every day I fear may be my last I must continue passing the tests I must continue winning their favor My life depends on repeating the ritual.
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