Wednesday, August 9, 2017

family secrets

a slow amber light flashed dimly
one night on my bedroom wall
reminding me of an uneaten soup
from a mysterious cookbook
in a forest of forgotten aroma 
from a marriage, shell-shocked,  
and a first born’s grievous defects 
that lingered in black and white 
through infernos of resentment
burning down our house
with personal aversions to reality
wealthy pretension
of jewels from a thief
passed off as heirlooms
like artificial intelligence
for minors in caves
of lithium battery ash  
for rocket ships to stardom
on the shoulders of silent giants
as truth trickled into the night soil 
and i went back to sleep

August 10, 2017

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