you go to your parents' place
to clear out the key threads of your life
and weave them back into a tapestry
free of their warp; you find your degree
in your mother's client room, achievements
not hers on display (what else is new) but
you dig through the closet and
a drawing you had given your father is
shoved in a box beside an art book
bent almost beyond repair, yours
cast aside behind closed doors. reassurance
they actually did like it but curtains
covered its old hanging spot come too quickly
for you to believe it, not completely, not when
any picture she liked was kept out and moved
immediately after it no longer fit
you go home and try to hold trembling hands taut
the threads you were working with cut much shorter
than you remember
— April 14, 2018
Gender:
Points: 89625
Reviews: 1272