as the days pile up
flash bulb memories
are what i remember
of the alcoholic father
the alcoholic first husband
the drunken loss of a decade with the blue eyes
it may be a disease but that makes you no less vile as a person
there’s no excuse for
trembling as my dad threw a giant television set out the front door into the yard
stairs turning upside down as the father of my sons headbutted me into submission
for wanting to leave his dysfunctions
threats of handguns and bodybags
that’s booze soaked rage
a blitzkrieg of anger
a pot boiled over
every tea kettle in the world simultaneously
spitting steam
screaming