blame

shit shit shit shit
the little girl said
as Nana frowned

blame her daddy
everyone agreed
he swears a lot

but no one asked
just where daddy
had first learned

to spice his speech
with hot expletives
and sharp sacrilege

because then Nana
would have had to
blame her husband

who swore angrily
in the garage where
topless calendars hung

years out of date and
the little boy played
in piles of old tires

stealing glances at tits
and whispering curses
practicing for manhood

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About semiblind

Bringing you stark existentialism since 1981.
This entry was posted in family, history, observations, people, poetry and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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