dining room table I

there it was. burning.

father and daughter, standing.

it was nighttime out,

and we had just finished packing up

both of our lives.

the truth is, we were both unhappy,

but our dynamic did not allow for dialogue.

he was moving into his empty parents’ home.

he had found the unforeseen just a few months prior

on the floor.

my past, adversity — deceiving and dishonest,

but i had nowhere else to go.

i think he felt guilty

that we weren’t close enough

to live in harmony like the others.

but that would never change.

we both bore heavy burdens then -

with weights so contrasting,

they shattered the potential of

healing what bond was left.

we watched the smoke go up past the

backyard trees and into a dark, empty sky.

we stood in silence

for a long time.

and watched our dining room table burn.

E 10th St, 46219