shooting rubber bands at a funeral

shooting rubber bands at a funeral

my inner critic is always with me and she sounds just like my mom family’s all in Scarborough, but we don’t link unless it’s psalms twenty-three from the pastor another cousin in the casket I’m not sure if we’re okay with that but we all know how to mask it

my family ties feel less like cables / and more like rubber bands my family ties feel less like cables / and more like rubber bands ‘cause they have a habit of snapping make your hand into a gun words fly like elastic bands shooting off your thumb

But what’s a family anyway? a herd hurting in their private disarray people who know all your weaknesses. people who hurt you in secret. ask you to take all the pain and conceal it. who say sorry and don’t need to mean it. Unconditional loyalty is what we call love; family’s all in the city but it’s rare to link up,

‘cause what’s a family anyway? people bonded by death, by birth, or blood a group of people I’ll always love I’ll always love you but

what’s a family anyway?

I only see you for death or birth, my blood a group of people I so fiercely love

in a complicated way.

p. 7

iAM POETRY 2020