THAT WILL DO.

You sit in your room
Staring at a bare
Wall trying hard to
Recall your father's

Final words and your
Mother's first, buried
Beneath years of words,
Images, sights, sounds,

Memories and bad
Feelings. You try to
Remember the night
Of your first bloody

Menstruation when
You thought that you were
Dying, the first time
You had sex in the

School gym where no one
Saw or cared and the
Name of the boy who
Had you there with that

Grin that reminded
You of Errol Flynn.
You try to recall
The first abortion

And the sickly bleed
And mess and the last
When you almost died
In that dark room that

Overlooked the brown
River. You try to
Remember your babe's
First hesitant steps

And your father's last
Stumbling to his bed
To die. You try to
Forget your mother's

Cries, the drunken fights,
The bedwetting nights.
The spankings you got
For nothing more than

Asking what the bad
Beatings were for, and
Your father's dark eyes
Peering into your

Young soul. You sit, drink
And smoke trying to
Recall the reason
Why your husband left

And took your young child,
Why he knocked you black
And blue and tried to
Split your mind in two.

You sit, drink and gaze,
And look back on those
Black and crazy days,
Listening to the

Bright morning birds and
Remembering your
Father's final words
Coming out of the

Blue: He said I hate
You girl. That will do.