No One In My Family
The ordinary violence of family life
is the sawyer’s craft, making planks out of people.
My dad was the tablet Moses broke.
No one in my family ever spoke to god
or called out to their mother
in the night as adults.
After an evening of tongue twisters,
the big black bug’s black blood
was on all our minds for days.
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RWB Workshop Poem of the Week—August 20