The hole in the
Stained glass window is
Eight years old and
Mom is screaming
At us that we just
Don’t understand
Just why she hates
Our dad
Reason
Has died in the
Hands of anger
The hole in the
Stained glass window is
Six years old and
She doesn’t know
We haven’t had a
Real conversation since I
Was 7
I confide in my
Brother now
The hole in the
Stained glass window is
Four years old and
My dad is upstairs
On a call with her
We pretend not to
Hear the hollering
Through his phone
I turn the music
Up
The hole in the
Stained glass window is
Two years old and
I stare at it as
Though it’ll set me free
From the conversation
The confusion
The constant
Later I cry in the shower
Not knowing
How am I going
To handle what will
Eventually turn into the
Rest of my life
The hole in the
Stained glass window is
Not there yet and
I don’t see them kiss
Don’t see them hug
My brother knows
Something is wrong
He also knows
I’m to young for
Carrying the burden
Of why they go
Away on Thursday nights
The hole in the
Stained glass window is
Eight years old and
Hope has left I’m
Not sure when it’ll
Return to me
I wish for the love
To last this time

All I am in
His eyes is
A girl who needs to
Be saved
Does he think
I don’t see
Right through the
Mask he wears
So no I don’t
Want to hang out
With you
I think I’ll just go
And look at the birds
Instead

I am my own
Best friend I’ll
Always be here
If I have nobody to
Accompany me we
Can make our own jokes
With ourself and
Laugh until our ribs
Are aching and
We can mark ourself
With things we
Love and when I’ve
Never felt so alone at
Least I’ll always have
Her
Who is always
Me we are
The same and yet
There are forever
Two of us
I love her so
There should be no
Denial of things she
Loves too I’ll
Let her do what
She wants and
She’ll show me how
To be happy
With her

The salt air reminds me of the time I was five
And dad took us to the beach
I almost drowned
In the frigid water I’d just
Wanted to play with the waves
Sometimes I’m five again
When I spot a seagull flying high
And wonder if it was there that day
When I hear the crashing water
And ask myself what went wrong
When I feel sand under my toes
And know it’ll always be a part of me
I’m back at the beach
With my dad and my brother
And the salt water tastes the same
As the campfire in the forest
As the books on my nightstand
As the house I don’t recognize
As the way it’ll never be the same
The little girl tumbles over
And over
And over
Until she’s pulled out gasping yet silent
Tearful yet breathing
Now I stand again on the beach
With my dad and my brother
And stare at the waves
That’ll always be here long
After the five year old girl is
Gone

Our lives are entangled
Woven together like
The strands in my braid
One week we all meet
In the middle of summer
This one was different
With cereal jokes and
Hot tubs and hair ties
But I bet
You’re with her now
She’s in your hoodie
And you pull her in close
Something cold
Crawls out of me using
My ribs as a latter
It sprouts from my mouth
And wraps me in shrouds
So I take out my braid
For it was never meant to stay