Poetry

Last Time

When your dad leaves for
the last time, you try to imagine
your mother’s face when 
she met him for the first time.

You try not to imagine
that your bones
are made from his dust and
all of the things he’ll never become.

You are a fatherless child turned
woman with children of your own
who can’t understand that
you come from a place which
echoes and wails.

You wonder sometimes if you too
are a ghost but your lover says,
“Impossible.”

Your children, they will forgive you
eventually. That’s what you tell yourself
even though your heart is a cold stone
when you think of what your parents
have done to you.

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