bitchuary

i got a text
from your father
after you went away.

he wanted to know
what would go
in the obituary.

he spelled it
b-i-t-c-h 
uary.

your sister quipped
“that sounds like january
for bitches.”

long ago
your father branded me
bitch, many different kinds!

he was cold
but abbie and i
felt only warmth 

in the sweet respite
of our shared laughter
at his expense.