Whistleblower

Mom invites me to take a walk

in the woods by our house,

talks to me like I’m an adult now.

She’ll be needing more help with the kids.

Dad’s not going to jail after all. He’s going to rehab.

“Sometimes people can’t help what they are. Your dad

is an alcoholic.”

She explains

our need to understand

and forgive.

Dad has a disease.

We walk side by side.

Mud clings to the soles of our boots.

Light bobs through the branches of the trees

like I’m underwater.

I tell Mom she can count on me,

and when we step out of the woods,

we’re a team.