Forgotten Youth Poem Series (#1): Jetti[son]ed
Last night Mom threw up
accusations and assumptions
on their eighteen-year-old bed, again.
Dad came home late
from fishing fish and peace
but all he managed to catch was despair, in his sighs.
I had trouble sleeping
and I thought I heard blunt slaps
of broken vows from their room.
This morning the weather
was gloomy; it’s been raining cats
these past few days; it’s okay—–
For it’s been raining hearts too
in this house, with a chance of break-ups
each break of dawn I wonder
if all these while this house
is a space shuttle.
I’m the broken satellite––jettisoned.