NO
crocodile tears.
NO
white knuckle flim flam.
NO
slick hustle wham bam;
sneaking the uninvited
around to the back door.
NO
taking the crumbs and
begging for more.
We threw ourselves in the pool,
but kept all of our clothes on.
We never cool off.
There are no towels,
warmed in the dryer by our mother’s love.
There are no voices,
choked with contrition,
mouthing prayers for our safety.
There is only silence in this,
iridescence of hope.
It keeps us deaf in one ear,
drowning with agony
wet in the chest
waves of sorrow-
sorry,
sorry
sorry,
sorry is another tomorrow.
