I don’t do family well,

it sets my teeth on edge:

the love between,

the deserving glances,

the buoyant banter,

the norms,

were never normal.


One parent cut off,

her heart,

lost in the distant world

of a sterile upbringing,


never intended to comfort us,

she needed them,

trying desperately

to cross the divide of separation.


Other parent,

came and went,

certainly effusive

in his big demonstrations of love

for us,

and we believed him,

but we needed more,

of them,

them together,

so stilted and wrong, 

their beings distorted by 

their mismatch.

We watched

as they struggled to find

the essence of family,

that never came to be.


But on the fringes,

my sisters and I 

were creating our own

version of family,

one that sustained,

and led us out 

of our childhood,

in search of definitions,

we would come 

to believe,







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