aayoungmy 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
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
there is a place where love dies
it is halfway through a liter of whiskey
when his furnace eyes burn
a dying madman’s gaze
i’m five again
and afraid of what daddy is going to do to mommy
like a fool i try to hide what’s left in the bottle
to keep his sickness from swallowing the house
crying out to god in the sink hole
haven’t my children suffered enough
but the gesture only serves to fuel the monster’s rage
backed into a corner
his hands wrap around my throat
spitty growl threatening
to smack me with
a hot iron
all i can think to myself is
you got what you wanted
you stupid bitch
such a fine job you’ve done replacing your father
never again will i accept this as love
i own the shitty choices i’ve made
but some insidious bastards
deserve to get cancer of the eyes
do you remember holding me down on the floor
and blowing cigarette smoke in my face
then spitting on me and slapping me repeatedly?
do you remember tearing my clothes off
and throwing me out the front door
because i wanted to take my children and leave
your sickness?
do you remember the way you would squeeze my throat until my eyes bulged out saying
you cunt i know how to not leave marks?
do you remember saying if i got away from you
you would hunt down everyone i love and kill them and then you would kill me in front of our sons so they would know what their dirty bitch mother had coming to her?
do you remember slapping our boys in the face repeatedly
snot and tears running down their faces when I found you torturing them
because they couldn’t say their abc’s?
do you remember any of that, motherfucker?
i do
and one day i’m gonna come for you
it will be the day i receive a terminal diagnosis
this isn’t a threat
it’s a promise i intend to keep
as you used to say
see
i still have that hunting knife you gave me
and i’m gonna return it to you
from your groin to your gullet
twenty-nine year old
mother of three
stair step children
all under the age of seven
laboring under the weight
of her fifth month of pregnancy
with the fourth baby
came home from work one night
and shot herself twice
once in the head
and
once in the heart
yet it matters not
the numbers don’t add up
or that her commonly unlawful boyfriend
was never charged with the crime
because ’round these parts
they call that sort of death
a kentucky suicide