for my mother and my mother's media

The house on Golden Ave

a home for four years, 

rental with bougainvillea, a green house

a bomb shelter in the backyard with

black widows in its cracks, 

and mother driving her Nissan, I am in a car seat still

“you know I don’t think it’s true, about the sins of the father”

Four three two five Keever Ave

Her savings bought this home. 

Laminate TV, bunny ear antenna with formidable wingspan

Swiss Family Robinson on VHS, and therein

a snake brings the tom boy to a tremble, a much younger brother dutifully consoles. 

Her voice, commanding over this island debacle,

“you know, boys and girls aren’t really different like that”

Dreams of peace drag me further and further 

And twenty years pass

I am learning Sweet Jane on guitar 

You know that women never really faint

Lou, what joy

and i’m back in that cluttered living room

cat claws sharpening on the back of a front yard couch

Swiss Family Robinson for the eleventh time

She walks in saying 

women don’t just stop what they’re doing

to be scared.

You know I don’t think it’s true about the sins of the father.

Anyone who ever had a heart! Oh they wouldn’t turn around and break it!

And still now I try to recall when she could no longer save mine 

from breaking. 

The longer you live, the more there is to remember

Dreams of peace drag me further, and further.

Mom, can we rent Grease?

Oh is that the one where the girl changes 

everything about herself so that a boy will like her?

Her blue eyes narrowed, daring me to agree.

You know I don’t think it’s true, about the sins of the father.