the silver teaspoons
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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