raising children

Raising Children

Strange rumblings
in the
outhouse.

 

The need
for indoor
plumbing.

 

For more
leeway on
the tennis
court.

 

For a
kangaroo
court &
a dream
catcher.

 

It all
fits if
you jam
it in
tight enough,
like scurvy
& botulism,
like a
lost tribe
of Israelites.

 

The rod
spoils the
child, knocks
his brains
loose, makes
him stutter.

 

The line
in the
dust,
the fingerprint
on the
gun trigger.

 

We need
to address
these things
before they’re
taken as
gospel.

 

We need
to show
that logic’s
speckled with
hunches.

 

We need
to pawn
our intentions
& wipe
out purges
& pogroms.

 

There’s no
room left
for amnesty.

 

We need
to show
our children
that we
raised
them right.

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