Member-only story
POETRY
Fleas
At 6 I knew that “fuck” was the word to use
whenever you were angry or frustrated
or wanted to get under someone’s skin.
This was back before I knew words like
rancor
and spite
and abuse.
At 6 I knew that “divorce” was a threat.
They fought morning, afternoon, evening.
They said “I love you,”
But they obviously despised me and each other.
Sometimes I could listen to The Gambler
or Paradise Theatre.
This was before I knew words like
torment
and refrain
and refuge.
I would have to wear socks
to traverse the living room.
By the time I got to the kitchen or the bathroom,
they were peppered
with living black spots.
This was back before I knew words like
traverse
or gauntlet
or squalor.
I can’t remember thinking,
It would be nice to live somewhere else.
I couldn’t imagine life outside the family,
but I did dream of running away,
and I tried a few times.
This was back before I knew words like
powerless
or emancipation
or exile.
