The Son

The trees keep count

Their branches fall as I keep picking up the pieces

The rings keep growing

The distance keeps expanding

The sun keeps shining days after years

Keeping the silence vast as it echoes between the forest and sky 

In the branches or deep in the dirt

Keeping the shadows in the dark 

Did I turn into my mother?

Become the hellbound monstrosity she was

Turning my oldest son into me?

Haven’t spoken in years

Keeping the hurt deceptively entombed in our hearts

Keeping it unspoken

Will we always keep the moments under the sun from tumbling out of the son?

The Hardest Secret

Massive stone boulders one on top of another build a house. Three

enormous stone fireplaces keep the drafty house warm. The vast 

entryway with an immense stone fireplace and hardwood oak

flooring. Windowsills the width of the stone walls. Breezy 

playing winter hide and seek.

The second-floor staircase is extra wide as we ignored the wooden 

handrails on either side. White and dark wooden banister protecting those who 

dared to peek over. Amazing— we never tumbled over. Screeching. Laughter 

echoes through the house as we race up and down the stairs. 

We always sprinted against Pia, our black Doberman. She was a rescue. 

She gave us a huge lead and still won. Witches, devils, and ghosts chased us 

with pitchforks at annual Halloween parties in the old horse barn. Spider webs 

capturing us. Faces drowning bobbing for apples. A “No Adults Allowed” 

tree house in the old apple orchard. 

Built into the mountain a guest house that housed a scary murphy bed. 

I was always terrified I would be closed into the wall. The sweetest 

black grapes tumbled over the arbors growing over both sides of the stream. 

My plump grandmother stirring homemade grape jam over the double stove.

This stone house kept two hundred years of secrets. Secrets among lovers,

friends and kids. Secrets that happen at grand parties, winter piano recitals,

summer barbeques. The house we had the greatest love for. The house

I learned the hardest secret. My body was not my own.