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