Buying A House From Your Father

That day I felt like a boxcar backing into tomorrow ~
Nothing clanged together properly
or fit into a shadow of itself
There was only me with a false light
of expectations
falling over my shoulder
I pointed out the porch swing, stone walk,
an upstairs apartment secure in itself
that we could offer out for extra money –
but you were tired of it all
and buying from your father stuck
in your throat of old arguments & black straps
It was up to me really
I handled the money, I knew the segments
of resentments you drank away each evening
I loved the house
The way Spring framed it with a giant oak
& flowers springing bright colors from its foundation
The large tin roof ready with a rain song
But I waved your father on –
because of love, because of the way
he made you fold in gratitude
for the smallest thing
And if we were not people of property,
landlords counting out our gold
we were still lovers
made invincible by our laughter
and unspoken understandings.

art by HelgaMcL

4 thoughts on “Buying A House From Your Father

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