Screams

You wept and screamed at me
all of us hiding in public
on a bench, you and your brother
unleashing Hell upon your father.

Perhaps I was being too stern.
Your mother caved; saved
us all, bought you lunch
and those goddamn toys.

Driving back in a silent rage
I furiously interrogated myself
but found no explanation
possible, nor necessary.

Your mother’s family laughed
it off; perhaps I am a joke.
I was a picture, I suppose: some
cynical Rockwell’s dark Americana.

We moved on, all of us, back to
our videos and playthings; except
I left my heart on that bench
where you killed me.






June 2019
I’m not often caught in a situation where I’m incapable of solving my children’s tantrums. Today we left a gift shop with two screaming toddlers and I found us to be a public spectacle I couldn’t resolve. It hurt. Parenting is often very easy for me; but when it’s hard, it can be very, very hard.