the long vacation

[a_parseltongue]

at a young age, i learned that if i fell, you picked me up,
and dusted me off, dirty knees and wet cheeks. However,

Father:

lied to me today, played a joke, told me a tale,
a sad mean story about you and your Never Returning,
but i laughed, because i know

you:

are at work, at the store, on vacation, visiting grandmother,
taking far too long,
but that's fine because i'll be up all night waiting.

but, this is odd:

you packed no bags, left your good luck charm on the dresser,
kept your keys on the loop out front, the car is sleeping in the garage,
forgot your medicine.

then it hits:

like a Quiet Slow maelstrom of beatings, child-like hands to heart,
screaming because maybe you weren't pretending to sleep,
these people weren't wrong, and father never lied.

and there is this hole:

in the conversation where you're just a name to cry over,
at the table where we still (out of habit, out of hope) set a spot,
in my wretched heart, in the cemetary ground.

Come home, come home, come home,
for everywhere i fall, i fall down crying.