six years old
lights out
bedroom door closed
I lay in bed
plotting my father’s death
for hating us, for beating us
for keeping our mother
from kissing us goodnight
said we were too old for that
a terrorized household
no wonder I flinch
a stranger, a burglar
would climb through my window
I would convince him
my father had the money
I would show him
where & how to kill him
Go, do it now, I’d say
one day, drunk, he stepped off
the commuter train
before it stopped
was nearly
dragged under the train
shoe shredded, clothes torn
I wrung my hands
so close, so close
some people deserve to die
I’m not a killer
or am I?
