Casualties of war

My stepfather is a tattoo-knuckled dictator
with buzzed cut hair, military style.

His power lies in the sour moods
he wields as a weapon; he barks an order
or spews ridicule, and we are felled with one word.

Stunned helpless, we lie like little soldiers
wounded in battle:

(Mind the blood on your wall-to-wall, mother.)

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One thought on “Casualties of war”

  1. I want to comment, but I am not sure what to say.
    So I will just let you know that I am here and offer you safe cyber-hugs if you want them.

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