Now you live in this one’s house,
But in that one’s thoughts, as you grow in fitful visits,
Marooned for weeks by the tossing swell.
You wonder why all that should carry weight in a family
Is obliged by law to carry weight outside it
And support the Jezebel who stole his son
And snuggles into her benefits with a fly-by-night ‘dad’.
Paramours and step-dads, who coldly observe you,
You view as rivals for your mother’s affection
Or as cuckolders of your father - but you save your anger
For more vulnerable siblings, peers and teachers.
AS you drink to the dregs the disorienting wine,
You sense the loss of self-controlled lives
Eating deep into your anxious, unpraised soul.
12. ‘Traumata, dear . . .’
The egg, who’s the yucky or fractious attention-seeker
Clinging to teachers because her parents are Teflon
(Either sorry for no wrong or wronging to say sorry),
Is emotionally raw, but at least not scrambled:
She craves only the right to belong and be noticed,
To understand herself as a young person in the world,
In hope to find herself, safe in her integrity.
But when he, whom you trust to show you your integrity,
Bearing fruit by his polite regard for your dignity,
Robs you of that dignity, screws your integrity,
How will you find yourself, how will you acquit yourself
With what has been slighted, sullied and tossed aside?