Joey played his role far too well.
He was the glue that kept his
parents together. He feared his
family would fall apart when his
parents fought. He would act out.
His parents would join together
to correct their wayward child.
His father was a drunken railroad
man; his mother was a shrew.
Dad would smack him around
and his mother would scream
at him. He learned not to openly cry.
He would go outside and sit on the
dilapidated swing and tears would flow
from open water spigots. His marriage
counseling wasn’t enough. His dad left.
Mom became sullen and reclusive. She
in the dark corners of her mind. Joey
became a surrogate parent. Looking out
and fixing for his little brother.
A social worker came when he missed
school. Joey convinced her that he had
been sick. Mom rarely got out of bed as
she went from bad to worse. Joey couldn’t
keep up.
The power company shut off their electricity.
The kitchen cupboards were bare. Joey tucked
his little brother in bed and on the old tree
in the backyard he hanged himself.