untitled

when i was a child,

my mother vanished.

my father came for me

and took me from that house

où les canards avaient été mes soignants.

(where the ducks had been my caregivers.)

we moved far away

where i slept in the attic

where shoes melted

où le givre couvrait le tapis.

(where frost covered the carpet.)

one day i dragged my mattress

into the laundry room

where the dogs slept

where the dryer knocked pictures from

empty, brown walls.

i was happy here,

où je me sentais moins seul

(where i felt less alone)

where i could see my father

watching the weather from the couch

and secretly nurture the bugs

crawling under the covers

and up my legs.

then his wife taught me to pray

and began painting murals for their unborn son

dans la chambre vide avec deux fenêtres.

(in that empty bedroom with two windows)

i’d cry for my mother

et mes canards.

(and my ducks.)

now my father won’t call me

mais même maintenant je prie le soleil

(but i still pray to the sun)

please just let him forgive me

for the ways i remind him of her

et pour la façon dont je n'étais pas assez.

(and for the ways i was not enough.)