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