Therapy – NaPoWriMo 2018 Day 7

tell me about your childhood, growing up
white, catholic, always on the cusp of fat;
a pretty, chubby girl raised in Chicago
suburbs where the blue sky and crisp
air insulated you from the creeping
stench of urban sulfur grime,
deep roots that burned your nostrils
on weekend trips to grandma’s and Wrigley Field
over the freeway and through the narrow grids

tell me how you escaped the madness,
of sainted parochial teachers,
your mother’s malingering,
your father’s drunken, manic swings,
swimming homeless in a murky,
sea foam pool steps away from dark,
one-room, Doe’s Motel efficiencies…how
have you survived, been spared
a bullet between the eyes, the sin
and ultimate demise of your father?

you’ve managed, haven’t you, to
scrape a middling existence, ever
on the cusp, a dose of medically
managed lucidity, nine to five
dependency, for a few seconds
of bliss, your progeny’s kisses,
midnight sessions scribbling, making
music, making love, glimmers
that make ordinary, extraordinary, but
I think it’s safe to say
you’ve not emerged unscathed, so
tell me about your childhood
or not, I see her in your eyes,
that little girl, jaded

~kat

NaPoWriMo 2018 – Day 7


21 responses to “Therapy – NaPoWriMo 2018 Day 7

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