Early Onset
The gray moth flickering
back and forth beneath
the kitchen’s round florescent
light. My mother sobbing
with the same tone as our dog
crying outside the kitchen door.
My father pushes her face
away, stalks into the bathroom.
I drag my arms around my mother,
promise to take more pills, twice
as many vitamins. She collapses,
pulling me with her. I lay next
to her, our heads underneath
the table, stroking her hair
full of crumbs and broccolli.
She curls into a ball away from
me. Picking at the scabs on my
cheeks. The dust wavering
in delicate strings down from
the hidden ribs of the table.
down the rabbit hole 