I could see poppa. His puffy nose. Your puffy cheeks.
I could see what we both lost. I could feel the wick
float away. Somewhere in my heart beats bad mother
but that is because I was being a selfish son.
Therapy has helped us pull each other apart
while reassembling your attacker and photos.
Sticky plastic sleeves. When you pull
the photo out, the shriek. The younger you
stares into me, before you even created me
you stare into a distance I have always held close
When my mother swelled up from her medication
Thomas Fucaloro, MFA, is an adjunct professor at Wagner College and Borough of Manhattan Community College, where he teaches world literature and advanced creative writing. He also teaches poetry at Prison Writes. He is a cofounding editor of great weather for MEDIA and NYSAI press. He has been on six national slam teams, and he is the winner of a performance grant from the Staten Island Council of the Arts and the New York City Department of Cultural Affairs. His latest chapbook, There Is Always Tomorrow, was released in 2017 by Mad Gleam Press.