I gave thanks only the once,
over a meal hosted by my grandmother’s
cousin in a small town near Philadelphia
and the small party of four, a second cousin
twice removed
and his wife both took a hand of mine
and prayed.
I was silent, but acknowledged their words
and I thought of home
as we sat in the heat
of a crowded restaurant,
the steam of the passable gravy
warming the inside of my nose
as I prepared to smother the turkey.
I may not have been the most ideal husband
that you could have had, baggage
galore and the wandering lust of the insecure,
not content in boredom and one who finds
it near impossible to dance. Married once before,
turned down twice more and the ignominy
of walking away from an Hispanic woman
who offered me the world, pompous at times
and stubborn as Hell when it comes to backing down
and the worry I have caused as I continue
to break down piece by piece by infuriating
What do you do when Time has neglected to inform
that there has been an ache in your heart
which you never realised existed till the pain
hits you square in the jaw and rips your guts apart?
You can but smile and flash a grin, because you mean that emotion,
you revel in the mysterious and the unanswered question
for a short while until
Time has a habit of making you nod and securing a truthful exit
as you realise that deep down gnawing at your soul,