Daddy Issues

It was the night you

pulled me out of bed

to go find Mommy.

You brought me into a bar

in my pajamas, the ones with

the matching doll,

the ones I went to the hospital in.

She was there, drinking

with her friends after work,

the same place you met.

It was your day off and you were watching me,

kind of, but you’d been drinking too.

I knew I wasn’t allowed in a bar,

but what upset my heart didn’t matter to you.

Orange air from waist high, laughing then yelling,

the stomachache and chin to chest.

I went with Mom when we left, fearing the fight,

but you beat us home and got the pole

from the back door. I still don’t understand why

you tried to smash in the passenger side window,

my window–

but I’m glad Mom’s pick-up had a bench seat

so I could scramble away from my father

for the first time in my life.

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