If you made a sound
This is the sound you would make
exhaling grief
Mauve in color
Straining to speak
What do you say?
Sitting at the family table
All my ghosts
In carried repose
And the new
Who replaces you
Has no power to stake
Your claim
On me
Because I am
Watered by indifference and throwaway cruelty
Fed on your critique
It is your bed – I like in to sleep
Integrating nightmares
Your brand of survival
So sore and foreign to mine
If you made a sound
Would it be a crow
Or a blackbird
At night when birds used to sleep
And now
Wary of rasping day
They call out
To their unseen maker
As I suppose
I call out to you
As I suppose
You hear and
Disregard
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