A.j. Binash

(04-20-1988 / Dodgeville WI)

Bad Dad


She never knew her father.
And each thought of him
Was a stalemate challenge
To death.

Enough to leave graves
Where memories of
Him died.

(Or never
Existed
In the first place)

For the memories had a voice
Lest…
It was more of a scream
That echoed through
Her blood.

Taunting-
Daring-

To be muted
With substances

All the faces from the ghosts
At each local haunt
Was a perfect deaden

Granting a new purpose
To the scream

A recognizable one
Which she controlled

The headstones on the graves
Began to read
Good Riddance

As she laid roses
Upon them
Weeping to the dirt:
"You were the real bastard"

Submitted: Sunday, December 30, 2012
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