i soften remembrances of you
so that i may live
but there are days
when the truth
of what you were
is flung from your grave
as the world
stages another revolution
terror rises from my earliest memories
my big sister
running with tiny me in her arms
to lock us behind a door
away from your belt
because i had toddled too near
your neatly pressed slacks
and
the day you walked to my swing set
to beat four year old me
mercilessly
for innocently repeating words
i didn’t understand
from your tongue
to grandma’s ears
you were kind enough
to slam me back down on the slide
when you were done
leaving me screaming atop the play mountain
the stream of urine
running all the way down between my legs
past my white sandal feet
the full length of the hot metal incline
then finally
dripping onto blades of grass
and it’s all i can do
to not drive deep into kentucky
with a shovel and lye
to liquefy your bones
alleviating me
and the earth
of what’s left of your weight
oh, fred
you’re perfect dead
a casket was the best place for you