The dam we’ve been depending on
that’s been repaired time and again
mended with silver spools of delicate hope
BURSTS.
Mom is such a bitch
for not giving Dad
one more
final third chance.
“Your dad and I separating
has nothing to do with you,” she tells me,
which is such a dipshit thing to say.
If it has nothing to do with me,
why
is it swinging me around by the neck?