Home’s where the anguish is

home, again—
people say never
but return, it’s clear—
a child reenters

father still plays king
mother weighted by groceries
in each nuanced glance, the older
remains the older
and the younger loses faith—

hearts already broken
doorposts splinter
plaster cracks
mailbox plates exchange one name
for another—

but mothers and fathers recede
little power
and prodigals continue to flail
their flailing arms

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