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You're the Adult
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March 9th, Poems for Class Babies and women love you
You know how to entertain/captivate/a difficult audience.
Once animated/ now they are still/
enraptured
by the command of your voice/and the sweep of your arms.
Men, they speak/highly of you.
They talk about your gestures
towards the community/towards ecology/and the preservation
of our traditions.
They want to drink beer/and share laughs with you
about who really did catch/the biggest fish.
You have a beautiful wife/who's aged with
grace and looks half her years.
You have three children/nearly grown they are fine physical specimens.
You design homes for people who have too much money/you always seem to have friends, aplenty.
And you have the most sought-after property/on the whole island.
People are jealous of you.
You loved us as babes/ you got to hug sweet-scented bundles/ and tickle our toes/ you used to build us forts/ on the living room floor with upside-down couches.
It was when we grew/ that you stopped wanting to hold us/
from the first time I/being the eldest/said something self-aware/ and took control of my opinions/
You didn't want a daughter/ you wanted a puppet/I wasn't complacent/but you tugged at my strings anyway
You never needed to hit me/ it would've been too easy/
you were designed for a sharper kind of torture/
and your words/ they cracked my bones apart.
It didn't take age or wisdom/ to see the color of the situation.
When I was fifteen/ I left you in a moment of strength.
I pulled myself off the floor/ and left all your callous words/ about my stupidity and ugliness.
I knew that I had to leave/because I was starting to believe/the things you said/and I didn't want to be/pushed down anymore.
The happiest I have ever been/ I was nine/ and mom left you.
For the first time/ I wasn't afraid of the dark/ and I wasn't wakened by the sounds of screaming.
B+B didn't come running to my bedroom anymore/begging me/to make you stop.
And mom had a boyfriend/ who built us a swingset.
And somehow you/dead-beat/ deprecating/piece of shit/ you managed/ managed/ to make her/ take you back. Convinced her how children/ should have two parents/ convinced her how she needed you/ how she and we meant nothing without you/
And we were never happy again/after that.
I look more and more like mom everyday. To you I am the painful reminder/ of the wife who doesn't love you/
You ridicule my fat ass and small chest/just like you've ridiculed hers all these years. Her favorite song/ is Comfortably Numb/ Did you know that?/You suffocated the spark in her/ she used to be alive.
And have you noticed that your son has developed a seizure disorder/brought about by the stress in his life?
And have you noticed that your other daughter/craved just one moment of embrace so much/that now she is a mother?
Sometimes still/ I catch myself/ in the act of trying to/ gain your approval.
And I don't know what I'm trying to prove to you/except that a part of me wants your acceptance.
I don't suppose you knew it hurt me/that you didn't remember my birthdays/that you didn't come to my middle-school plays/that you didn't come to my graduation ceremony/that you know nothing about me.
I know about you/ I know how my nose is the same as yours/and that when I'm angry/ I am just as explosive/I know that I like to read texts about archeology/Did you notice I used to steal your books when you weren't looking?
Sometimes I catch a look in your eyes/your expressive eyes that scared me so much as a child.
But this look is different/like you know that you fucked up somewhere/and that you know that the only reason/you ever made me feel like shit/was because you hate yourself so much. But I have your pride don't I? I'm/ just/ as/ stubborn/ as/ you.
I won't apologize to you for anything I've said/
Didn't you know? You're the adult here/
I'm still waiting for you to step up/
and be my dad.
