This poem does not wish to have a name because name is of no gain when pain is a name. 


This poem rewrites the scriptures into a nightmare
where man and wife unglued one
to one and one.
first one seeking comfort in the arms of another, 
second one finding hers
 in the arms of her daughters
so one and one made their homes, 
far from home.
we watched them become brushes
painting their marital underwear simultaneously
on our pale faces
we were just four little cubs
putting on the skins of pain as clothes
their disjointed union had sewn us. 
it was lengthy and weighty
and threatened to uninstall joy in us
and whether or not we wore 
the old ones
their needle words would
 weave more for us. 
so our broken hearts watched 
as one split in two 
believe me, this wasn't a divorce 
there was no paperwork 
but even God knew 
 the better-or-worse deal was off. 
so our broken hearts watched 
mom and dad become 
mom, dad
 and  was washed away by the brutal storm of grieve
and betrayal and infidelity and denial.
so our broken hearts watched
dad yearn the arms of another
I'd rather be a dead lad than mistake this imposter
as mother
that one that willed happiness from us
rolled dad away from us
 or presumably, she did not. 
for our broken hearts watched one split in two 
way before three was born


a voice tells me,
that this union was not meant to be.