My father has large hands,
he could wrap his fingers around my head
and pick me up with one arm.
He could also throw me, but if I
closed my eyes it wouldn't hurt
as much.
I'd become lost in a sandbox,
where the sand formed castles that
crumbled from his voice shaking the house.
My trainset derailed and then crashed into
the wall as the sand shifted beneath the tracks.
My body was too big to fit in the fernace,
yet small enough to be burried alive with my family.
If I closed my eyes, it didn't hurt as much.
When my sandbox turned to mud and our
graves were flooded, I heard him screaming
again; I opened my eyes.
And found broken glass around the dinner table,
blood on the wall and counter.
Mother was crying as she cleaned herself
and the kitchen up.
If I closed my eyes it wouldn't hurt as much.
but I knew he'd still be beating her.
