Poof* Take MY water

two decades ago i took
an overdue trip to Central Ohio
introducing my former mother-in-law to her six month old twin grandsons
we got to talking about Kentucky
as all transplanted Kentuckians do
we bounced gurgling baby innocence on our respective maternal knees having our own little gossip social
curling wispy baby hairs in her worn fingers
her laughter turned to pained breaths
as she shuttered out
a mortifying truth
about a bluegrass upbringing
she was discussing how she had been repeatedly raped as a girl by her father in Hyden, Kentucky
ran away to something worse at 14
how her first marriage ended when she found her alcoholic unemploymed coal miner husband was molesting her two little girls while she was waitressing to support the jerk
fleeing north to Ohio with them
to single motherdom with three kids in the 1960s living in a car until she could afford a place to rent
tears streamed down
her withered cheeks
as she said
“A girl child isn’t safe growing up around a family of men in the South.”
20 years later i think of her words and the women in my biological family
four generations of women who tried to protect their genitalia from one family member
the irony of being expected to smile and pretend
give forgiving hugs
that i’m the one who doesn’t feel comfortable coming to the Thanksgiving table
not the man who couldn’t keep his hands to himself
Do you think
Canadians feel like
they occupy
the spacious attic
of hell?
my parents were screaming
at each other
in Baptist curses
doors slamming
phones torn asunder
sounds of a home splitting apart at the roofbeams
my father throwing the floor model television out the front door
and one frightened sister
smuggling me out a bedroom window to another protective sister
that may not have all happened on the same night
it was so long ago &
this wasn’t constant
not your average weeknight at the Young’s house
but it’s always the first time
that matters most
bravado poet he was
and i dumbly followed
fully knowing
his titles were shit
with a snake oil smile
performative assholery
but it took a near death
blood loss event
near wild boar swamps
in an Arkansas tar pit
to see
the true excrement
was the content
of his character
a woman’s life
is too tenuous
delicate
billowy
spider web
close call on I-75
in preterm labor
on the way to the
Paris airport
in the rain
fragile
beautiful
precious
sacrosanct
finite
for bad friends
bad family
bad coffee
bad shoes
bad mattresses
bad jobs
bad husbands
bad debt
and bad dick
learn this by 30 for maximum
enjoyment
future
female
conquerors
of a dying planet
when the oxycodone and meth crops fail in kentucky
the country folk flock
across the ohio river into cincinnati
to go to the open air opioid market
people once came to the queen city from the south
to get factory jobs that no longer exist
they were called briar hoppers
we don’t have a name for these new immigrants
other than marginalized, homeless, inmate, and DOA’s
but they’re good at making change
a five dollar bill on the streets of this town
will turn into a baggy of heroin
faster than it will turn
to singles
amidst the curiosities
of my yet to be packed up
roll top desk
i found a diamond bracelet
you had given me
hiding in one of
the apothecary drawers
it reminded me immediately
how you waged
war by candlelight
instinctively i pulled the pin
on that gauche grenade
lobbing the tacky bauble
into the goose shit encircled pond
behind the house
your weaponry
is not welcome here
anymore
never make the mistake
of clinging to the notion
that someone is good
deep down inside
because
eventually
painfully
regrettably
you will come to realize
they do not have
a
deep down inside