Thursday, February 6, 2020



Estrangement is worse than being an orphan.
All the missed Christmases,
The empty seats,
The cards in the mail,
Social media stalking
My how she’s aged.

Righteous rage is always
Followed by a funereal silence.
Ostracization, ex communication,
Exile to the realm of the wronged. 
Church doors locked, 
Keep your hands out of the holy water.

An orphan was never rejected;
His parents are just dead.
A blurred picture of mom in a locket,
Dad’s cologne, that last trip to Hilton Head.

It’s worse this way,
The living undead absence 
Of your mom or your dad.
Maybe you’re just waiting 
For the sad news to arrive.
You’ve already written lovely eulogies 
That your siblings, by god, will never
Let you stand behind an altar and deliver.

When it's over you can write the story,
As the orphan conjures an imagined dad,
A phantasmagorical mother
Wrapped up tidy and nice;
Proud of you boy, good luck, good night.

Or maybe you're just waiting
For your own inevitable fall
Flat on your back
Nowhere to go
No one to expect
Except for them, old mom and dad---
The eternal recurrence of helpless infancy.
At the very last, the real thing,
the old familiar faces looming over you,
Smiling in shimmering brilliancy.


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