Family Tree
Why does our family
have big butts, asks my nephew lean
hairs erupting to form a man’s
face I imagine listening
for the image over the phone
We don’t, it’s just the women
good earthy Italian
stock peasants
But why, he asks
as if I could eat his confusion with words
I could tell him of millennia evolving
genetics
human seed mixing ancestors
who could be as tall as cedar trees
and our round child
bearing hips good for keeping us
close to the earth low
center of gravity
sturdy
Or years
add layers rounding out the family tree
all past statements, threats, demands
waiting to be fulfilled
gathered in fatty pockets accentuating
what we fear these wide hips
mockery that we aren’t the earth
mothers child
bearing barren in lands furrowed
one too many times
The tender rind ripens
to protect us
from the fall cushioning impact
with our world grown sharp as ice
able to cut whale blubber
carve eggshell emotions
a chrysalis too beautiful
to survive the offhand
remark thrown like cutting edges slicing
our family apart
Heartbreak and thrown bottles
liquid spilling like new tears
we learned to cope cover flaws jutting
from the family
home cracked walls and understanding chipped
paint flaking hate
grown into flesh to hold broken
angles the cutting words
daggered looks the tinkling glass laughs
lacerated larval people
hidden underneath
My nephew feels the burden of the women’s pains
mother aunt grandmother towing extra
pounds of guilt where a touch
left indelible prints on skin
bone and softened souls
I can’t tell him we tried to drop away
while still small irritants
before the seasons warped our world
and poisoned fingers plucked our hearts
before other eyes began to see
a mystery deformed seed
From outside my nephew views a world
of flesh comments that it’s not
fair we have this shape
human pears waiting
fearing to be
plucked and bruised anew
They Have to Take You In
2014, Hidden Book Press