Family
poetry
Family
- One day you called,
- your voice full
- of sadness and the weight
- of a history unknown to me.
- In the back of your throat
- it had found a place to live
- like an allergen too familiar
- with avoidance. Dad’s phở
- could cure anything.
- It stewed of meat and bone.
- But it knew nothing
- of distance and blood.
- I learned this too late
- choking on words
- across the country, trying
- to support you, years later.
- It was your decision:
- You and mom weren’t talking
- anymore. I thought of her then,
- alone, in front of the TV at the end
- of the day, always on,
- weekends too, and Dad,
- hiding in the garage,
- fixing audio devices.
- Once the war was over
- no one knew what to do
- so we went to war
- with one another instead.
- This time it felt like
- the right time to fire
- and listen
- to the sound of our guns.
