No-one To Talk To

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My father kindly put life into perspective today
upon my making enquiries he happily explained
grandma Alice wanted some pocket money so
she drove the crèche kombi while taking care of
five kids, preparing meals every day

She earned extra income just to be jolly, a mother
who once stole for her son and nearly ended in jail,
frolicked by selling dresses she made, idly dabbling
with extra work just for fun, indeed, charmed by his
adroit explanation for grandma’s hard work

I asked him about his aggression when we were small,
eyes staring wildly he angrily replied he had never been
aggressive at all, never hit his kids, maybe once, adding
that he must have been drunk, he admits to throttling
my sister, insisting that was okay

I can see he has a point, observing my twin sister being
throttled by my dad sure builds character, my brother re-
calls mother also throttling her, a most reassuring way to
spend one’s childhood, no reason to be anxious or
scared when I was small

It is not as if they did it too often after all, besides he never
did anything to me; I know because I was invisible, unable
to protect my sister against the murderous intent of both
parents I did not plan on drawing their attention, I took
refuge in a book, there was no-one to talk to

And nothing to say…
*