Senior Year

[tectak]

Senior year (If only my 18th birthday was 14 years away rather than 2 months past) As a rule, it is wise not to excuse any work in Serious, even if in slanted fashion. Happy belated birthday...should I care?

1.
Sunday, 2:03pm, Say two-oh-three pm to avoid the reader saying three minutes past two in the afternoon...even subconsciously. I can tell you are going to use this time stamp as a device. It is not poetic.
my father breaks the shower faucet
for the third time this month Start right.Did he break the shower forcet for the third time? Did your mother, for the third time this month, drag her body upstair? Punctuate to clarity. Punctuation evolved for just this purpose. If you do not use it then one must assume you do not know how. Clue...comma
my mother drags her body up the stairs Clue..semicolon; unless she dragged her body up the stairs mental exhaustion. In which case you need an apostrophe on stair's. See, I distrust your intent already.
mental exhaustion wears on her eye sockets Impossible imagery. End of sentence, period

their vows ring in her ears Whose bloody vows? You do not say. Eye socket's vows? Capital letter on Their. You need to punctuate. No more on this.
he throws a wrench at her face
but its blocked it's. Oh do come along. I am minded to move this to Novice as I want be angry.
by my father's drunken aim

Sunday, 2:05pm
my sister leaps on spot Wot? Is this the pet dog?
her legs still crossed
on my bedroom floor Complete gobbledygook
Sorry. I cannot go on. This is posted in the wrong forum. Sorry about Spot the dog. Did he survive?
she is not met with an iron tool
but my stare
of both embarrassment and pity

fear lazily strikes itself across her face,
panic is barely noticeable,
the angry words and drunken slurs
were nothing less than habitual.

Sunday, 2:07pm
my mother's body slams
against a wall or a door
the thump is dead
it mocks her

Sunday, 2:11pm
I rip the bathroom door from its hinges
imagine the firm handshake
my father once showed me

I lumbar over the threshold
stand toe to toe with Goliath
I am David
I have come with neither slingshot nor stone

my father's crutch is my savior
he is too drunk to throw anything at my face
but not drunk enough to be conquered

Sunday, 2:19pm
my mother and I part
as if he is Moses and we are the Red Sea
he half tumbles down the stairs
whisky becomes lead in the blood stream

Sunday, 2:37pm
the blue Subaru
shifts and submits under my father's hand
just as my mother has done so many nights

the car lurches backward
a diagonal course
those marks will scar the grass
for years

Sunday, 4:01pm
my mother's vocal cords have seized
her body hugs the memory
of my father's driver's seat

the warmth of the blacktop
a better husband
than my father could ever be



2.
Sunday, 4:57pm
my lips shift in tandem
with my vocal cord's vibration
diaphragm expands and contracts

I need to cringe at the drone
the officer's voice
mixes, so irritatingly
with the phone's
electrical buzz

shallow breaths between
automated responses
supplies just enough oxygen
so I cannot forget tonight

Sunday, 5:28pm
I open the French door
the familiar sound of suction
seems less nostalgic tonight

my bare feet tango
around the missing deck boards
another project my mother thought
could fix my father

she is a part of the blacktop now
the sun illuminates her umber hair
the grey strands bow toward the light

I pause quickly
will I be that beautiful when
the cool March breeze is the only
thing in this world
willing enough to touch my skin