Puzzled Pieces

It was a dazzling day. In the park where we gathered. I watched the sprinkler spray. Whilst Oleander got lathered. A pierce of minty laughter. Came from my mother. The day, now full swelter. Brought mephitic curses, from father. My mother, A piece, of distinct edges, shapes, and color. My Father’s piece, Gossamer... A ghost in the Parlor. My aunt buzzes ‘round, Looking to peck. Her greatest skill, Tearing wealth from flesh. She is an ugly thing, Constantly tithing kin. Her tabs busted, Only darkness within. My uncle walks water, Crying divine inspired droll. Then he sees foreign breasts, And his eyes start to roll. He is piously loathsome, A delusional winner. His piece, contrasting color, A chronic Casanova of a sinner. My grandmother sits, By a row of briar’s. From here smelling sweet, Closer and the peril gets dire. She is a dandy, Addicting to be around. But when her corner piece shows, It can cut to the ground. My grandfather rests, In the middle, on a bench. The tether that keeps, We are bolts, He is wrench. His piece..... To us much renowned. His piece is the core, It holds me around. There it is, my family puzzle. And on the fringes I sit. See, I’m an edge piece, That doesn’t quite fit. With my teeth on a muzzle. 03/04/13