Do I deserve to exist
the abused old child the poem asks itself.
It cowers in corners, believes
itself unworthy to form even
the words of its own name,
enters abusive relationships
with drunkards & half-wits, believes
it deserves its brilliant floribundant bruises,
dreams of calling it all quits, presenting itself
perfumed in some clean past tense
to its son & daughter
having left a note saying
This is who your father was...

Gerald Fleming
Contents | Mudlark No. 3
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