My Dad's Mistress
Loveliness and grace
were the improper virtues
of a deceitful woman,
who would constantly use
them to seduce a married man...
that was my dad's mistress.
The holiest of women,
bearing through silence
much undeserved pain;
and love her children
she did without visible signs...
unable to toss the destiny's dice.
Dad's heart was defiled by lust,
and still expected mother's trust,
once he slapped me hard
for my rebellious attitude...
he knew his child suspected cheating,
when, most nights, he saw him fleeing.
Cuddled in a blanket on the marble floor
shivering not with cold, but with fear,
I waited for dad when everybody was asleep;
inside that big house I didn't feel secure,
it was a prince's castle hunted by ghosts...
and they attempted to grab me by their arms.
And because I resembled daddy a lot:
confident, virile, strong with the looks of a charmer;
I feared I would have become him and cared less,
without self-affection, sharing a wife and a lover...
and to stop the cycle, I would have kept my sexiness intact,
even thinking of joining the priesthood to avenge my dad's mistress.
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
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