Parental Love

For me a mother's love
was scornful laughter at
how many bruises striking fists
could raise upon my flesh
until I grew large enough to
slide her up the wall
my fist dug in her throat
and swear the next time that I felt
her hands hurt me
I would cut them off
and hang them round her fucking neck

A father's love was just a joke
a sweating booze-stained smear
of rank contempt for anything
approaching love
that brutalized
and terrorized everyone
and anything
that came within its grasping hate
leaving only anguish in its wake

So when folks compliment me
on the demeanor of my children
when they comment on
their good behaviour
their keen intelligence
their gentleness and generosity of spirit
and ask me what my secret is
I tell them this:

when I must teach my children
the lessons all must learn in life
I think back to what my parents did
then do the exact opposite
and never
ever
tell my kids about their love