The Only Thing I Can Hear
the only thing i can hear,
the gritty sand-on-teeth grimace
of living in
the lower class.
these cheap panels of wood
that make up the
fabric beneath my footing
paint bloody scenes of
getting stuck.
mama lives in these walls
because it is the only
thing she knows that
hasn't made her feel
like an outsider.
daddy left these walls,
good riddance,
because he found no beauty
in the gaping despair
sewn into the cheap
linoleum flooring.
these walls, these too-long,
too empty, too big to fit
what we had left of our family walls,
they open wide when i step in
and they smile sweetly while
i lay dreaming.
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