a family shape

some people's families are

shaped like shining galaxies

like constellations linked arm in arm

like lush webs dripping dew

some are shaped

like knitted loops of wet wool

like slippery roller coaster tracks

some people's families slowly pulsate

creatures bumping in a tidal pool

but my family is shaped

like bark flaking off an old rotten tree

like leftover bits of stars on a cloudy night

like a raggedy sweater in the back of the drawer

an already tiny family

just dwindling down

to small faint

points

gone

when I think about the dwindling

I panic

I cling

I cry

my heart stops

shoots hot liquid fire

behind my eyes

breath catches in my chest

and I drop down to my knees

and pray

to god, the universe, mother, energy, light, nature

(whichever fucking term you stick on it)

and I beg for something better

to erase the pain and sadness

of our wasting lives

the sudden realization of ten to twelve

years of selfish waste and hurt

a ramming flood, overwhelming

years pressing their immense burden of time

on my mother's head, my father's hands

my heart all shriveled

like a goddamned piece of jerky

or a deflated balloon

or crusted over scab

with nothing left to give

but a pretend family of dogs and cats

it's time to grow a bigger family, brand new

like a starfish regenerating new limbs

it takes a lot of energy

when she's only just come to realize

she's only a lonely stump

stuck to the sandy floor

this gummy stump translates

pain into tissue

breathing underwater, slowly

soaking that old heart

plumping it with patience

trusting that current