Mama asked my daddy to
go to counseling once,
just like Aunt Bee is asking me to do,
and he exploded into a wild rage.
There’s nothing wrong with me, he yelled,
over and over again until I wondered
if maybe there was.
He added other words
after a while. I don’t need no doctors
telling me there is, he said.
I’m not weak.
I’m not damaged.
And then he threw the glass in his hand
and followed the throw with a fist
to Mama’s jaw. His hand went through
the top screen of the door
on his way out.
Me and Charlie stood
in the middle of a room
where a glass had broken
in a corner and our mama
sat broken on the floor.