Silver and Red

I have a hard time associating

With women who wear

Sterling silver cross necklaces,

Telling tales that sex is an appeal to the devil.

 

Monogamy is a path to a bright afterlife,

But only for the ruined.

When my mother started having an affair,

I knew then that Church wasn’t for me

 

Or for the pastor she was ruining.

 

A fraud, an infection, an ironic sin

We lived in this “center that cannot hold”.

My mother is a sinner

and I am not a saint.

 

My father, spending unemployed dollars unearned;

My father, spreading a cancer from his cigarettes;

My father, smoking white and blowing red,

Dared to fall deeper into her depressive waltz

 

They got a divorce

 

The walls in the apartment are fortified.

The water is undrinkable for daily baptisms

And there’s a trashcan in the corner

With old family albums, weary and tired.

 

He always brought flowers,

A safety net to his sins.

She always wore red lipstick

For she was a fish.

 

“My mother is a fish”

 

When she used to be my rock;

When she used to be perfect.

I am awake and ready and surviving

And I am old, weary and tired

 

And I am old, independent and secure;

And I am old, happy and exhausted;

And I am young, eager and willing,

No matter the outcome of my childhood

 

I am my own savior and I, my own sin.

This poem is about: 
Me
My family
Our world

Comments

Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.
 

 

If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741