Monday, 26 March 2018

The Family Plot

by Amy Ballard Rich

Oh brother
with your gas light
shining out
urning your place in the family shrine

The myth you spin
will be carried on,
whispered as an aside
perhaps even with your intonations

After all, you were the golden boy
your brown-green smoky halo
keeping your smile intact

Icy admonishments from you
kept hidden from view,
altered facts about me
sworn true

Women are better
marching for liberation
but not actually living it,
could be the family legacy;
good that I’m the outcast

I have almost drowned
a few times,
submerged in murk
under your gas light

I have resurfaced,
embracing exile
breathing in fresh fir trees
and splashing playfully
in my favorite
unconditionally loving ocean,
far away from smoke
and gas lights

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