functional family

(Disclaimer: dark childhood, familiar feminist whining, etc.)


Trust me, you’ll learn
to sit and scream it out.
Maybe nibble at fingers
like cookies in the night.

Mama makes all the dinners
by scratch but they taste
like dust in your mouth.
All the portraits hung
correctly but one. Its tilt

dizzies you. Like when your
step-dad takes you sailing
and the boat rises so high you
have to put your feet on the
seats. He loves to do things

like that, scare you, make you
feel expendable. He’ll say you’re
a spoiled brat anyways. Will lock
himself in his room with a beer

and a porn mag at Christmas.
When before it was always
screaming and beatings you’ll
soon learn of glances and gropings,

and later in life you’ll think
this is the way to catch a man.
Trust me, it isn’t. Men say they
want a whore in bed but they’re
liars. You’ll tell your real

father of your secrets but he’ll
say it’s just demons in your head
and Mama will swear you’re a fibber.
No matter, soon you’ll learn
to earn your place.