Inside My Son’s Mind

Mom and Dad go in and out
addiction’s revolving door
and I stay inside pushing

a glass wing veined with cracks
and smudged with lipstick 
where Mom kissed me hi and bye

Mom left and Dad came back
Dad walks backward facing me
and air hugs through the pane

I watch the exits rotating by
and wonder which one and when
he'll step out like he stepped in

leaving me in a clutter
of toys I forgot clothes I outgrew
and books he never read me

that cram up the vestibules
but never enough to jam the drum
nor stop the brushes softly swooshing