The shivering concoction 
withdraws from its own coldness
pure opulence, 
rubbing against the residue left
abandoned to the furthest corners of my mouth.
Dried and flaking
giving up to fall into a pool of its own eternity.

Mother shares the tainting.
Till the rotten soap is stuck under my fingernails.
breaching the sheltered skin
incapable of being cleaned under streams of denial
but still potent
enough to scrape the rubble off my mother’s wounded body.
Still, it leaves behind its markings and
blueprints for another destroyed city.

Another war is waged
father’s pride clings to his fists in desperation
the familiar strikes of slurred thunder
rocking us backward
Faster and harder
till even the dog no longer shows sympathy.

She is always wringing the bruises from her body
Consuming them with her bowed head
It is a miracle; Her rebellion
A fickle dream 

Grow too tall to see him
A chin always upturned  
find a permanent haven in the ceilings

Grow taller than him
so you never have to see him again.

But there is no retribution,
revenge, redemption.
only a hefty weariness
mounting pressure to forget

A near-empty glass collecting more dust.
A few drops left untouched
Finally a hushed order comes through
Finish it.
So there is nothing left.