normality.

my father eats sardines

and pickles

but my mother drinks the juice

to help her pitted skin

but her pimples still pop

their greasy spit on her chin

.   

I help my brother draw pictures

of long arrows and short arrows

to tell time

as if we actually understood it

and learn how many apples the elephants ate

(enough to feed all the African children)

at the kitchen table,

like we’re normal

.

while my twin fights magical creatures

in green tights on the television screen

as if he was a hero

as if we all were heroes

.

Advertisements

Have an opinion to share?

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s