inheritance

not finding

my father

I found hers

adoption

like dodgy knees

seemingly

one of those things

which ran

in our family

Frustration

Today, I fix the past with knives and forks.

I grasp then carve. I grab until my hands

are full and nail a feast of question marks

along the wall. The handle smashes nails

and plaster, masonry and paint; the brick

beneath the surface breathes out orange dust.

The question marks lie broken on the floor;

they could not stay in place. I pick them up

and rearrange each broken line till words

appear. I rearrange them once again,

then twice, then three times, over and over, shaping

new words: the infinite variety

of answers. Standing back, I look again,

and see that all I have are question marks.

Leaves

I was the tree which did not grow.

I drew myself upon a page:

stick arms; stick legs; stick body; head.

They all became unstuck. Without

your roots, you f

              a                              l

l                              a

     p                                    a

              r   

t with ease.