Family Portrait

So we start with my father as a boy, barely spoke a word of English
Fell in love from a distance. He watched her working from the back fence
He learned some words and some clever turns of phrase from his father’s book of
poets
She wasn’t taken in that instant, but grew impressed with his persistence
They met each other out by moonlight, made love in the nearby woods
Then her folks became suspicious when her cycle broke and settled it
They stole away without their goodbyes, got married in a foreign town,
made their way as best as they could
Found jobs and settled down
And then time moved on
I was born in a river of blood on sheets from the wedding day
The room was dark and the stench was thick
My father couldn’t stand the smell of it
Mama died in the night cause the nearest doctor couldn’t stem the blood loss
Father cried out on the back porch
My sister held me at the neighbor’s house
Oh my, there was a storm then. There was a flood of a different kind
Father’s eyes were often vacant, but his hands were rarely quiet
Sister learned to take her hits well, both from life and the physical kind
But I was never one to lie down, despite who picked the fight
So we designed our Hells
Father turned into a drinker, a dark bastard with a wooden heart
Sister learned to be a mother, before she ever played another part
And I became a little terror, I lashed out at whatever’s around
Took some time before I settled, and found a mind that was somewhat sound
And like it always does, time marched on
Six years later father died in the very same bedroom
Many said it was the grief that did it
I have to say it’s cause he hung himself
To be honest, neither sister nor myself ever much regret his passing
But I admit it was a nice thing, to always know that we could feed ourselves