Family ca. 1967

My mother’s worries are fear, love
and anger.

Dad drinks another shot
wiping his brow as he
gently strokes her
soft, dark hair.

He turns for a moment, and she
takes the bottle away.

Another game of hide and seek.

My brother and I
lie still in our beds
awaiting the darkness
and after that

The bright morning sun and
everyone’s
silence.

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