Those Days

The other day Rachel asked him
if he ever was sure of Mom
He said it was her fault
and she'd admit it one day

I don't remember much of those days
Christmas one year, though pretty fuzzy,
ecstatic over articulated action figures
Sneaking to the balcony with Rachel
just to watch them watching television
Always caught and sent back to our beds
But we'd do it again, and we waited for it
Waking up to the sound of metal on metal
and the smell of sawdust from the cages
He worked in his shop always,
and I didn't know what to make of him
Winter colds with the cough gator
It somehow made the syrup sweeter
The cats, all three of them, individuals
Helmet was always my favorite
He had a BB in his leg, from a neighbor
Always a warrior, at least I thought he was
Of course, Patches, the family dog,
and we neglected her as most do
My birthday one year in the cubby,
jungle sounds, legos, and a toy gorilla
Most of all I remember coming home
fresh from school to a lonely house,
with the blinds closed and air cold
I can see him weeping on the couch
That's something that remains clear
Or sitting alone in first grade crying,
unable to understand their decision
I don't remember her, though
Can't picture her from those days
I can't even hear her voice