Parents ignored the warning sign.
I broke things just to cry over our brokenness.
I remember there were times father wanted to unhinge me
and take a look under the hood.
He mistook my brain for steel girders
he could unscrew joint by joint and stack neatly.
I do not understand why two people who craved order
had children and all the accompanying messiness.
There was the subtle violence of being called by the wrong name.
How I saw more stars at night than others.
How I opened my mouth to speak
and words never came out in the right order.
How my word’s cluttered existence
dismantled my parents carefully constructed stiff upper lips.
copyright © 2022 Kenneth P. Gurney
4 thoughts on “After Richard Died”
Love this. “How I saw more stars at night than others.” Beautifully written, my friend.
Dear Kenneth, so, so sad.
Good poem! Love reading your blog, fuel for my mornings.
Thank you Dale.