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Poem
two silver spoons, 
two completely different people
tied together by children, marriage, 
divorce
they shared a home 
two decades of life 
and then nothing 
just children; bound by blood, 
broken by each other 
they’re in the same room, fingers brushing as they pass each other banners to stick on the walls 
i was the first born 
the first broken 
but the last to arrive at the party 
i decorated the cake with him, 
putting our beliefs aside to decide where to place the candles 
aligned with my mother 
but stood with him while she’s in the other room 
i was in the middle of every fight 
sometimes the cause 
but i didn’t choose to be born 
so i decorate this cake 
two metres from us sit the room i try to forget 
we form a circle and talk about our addictions 
what we lost 
who we lost 
i lost my father 
and i lost myself 
one long before the other 
i just can’t figure out who 
he has no idea these thoughts are in my head
or that locked room has any more meaning to me than just a locked room 
so while we agree where to place these candles 
i hear the conversations in my head 
i was their marriage counsellor; too young, 
too under qualified 
now i stand with them 
one each side of me; 
and they smile at each other or maybe through each other and past each others silhouette to the memories of what they once were 
they were married 
divorced 
one drinks tea 
another drinks coffee 
i measure the sugar 
i pour the milk 
i have the urge to clean up their cups 
maybe because i couldn’t clean up their marriage 
i dry the teaspoons and place them away in the drawer 
they are so separate now  
but today their used tea spoons sit in the same drawer 
i cannot have my mother and father together again
they will now stand in the same room, but not for too long 
at least i can lay their spoons together to rest
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