Karma

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?