my feet into grandma's garbage
sometimes a wide size 9s, a shirt-dress
mom would parade the trash through
the door, present the bag
in front of my feet
like a wise man
staring down at me
with a fixed glaze.
cleaning the bathroom
i wanted to scrub the sink,
change its history
my dad died of a blood clot
51 hunter green soldiers
on his night gown.
my brother slammed the walls on his way out,
a picture of a man leaning his head out of a truck window,
above the entrance.
it was one of those that you walk past
and the man gets out of the truck,
follows you out of the frame.
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