Patchwork Love

My broken family
is a quilt;

a few decades of patchwork
makes for
bastard warmth
far from the thread count we
set out to
instill.

My family tree has
its branches of guilt,
invasive species and most
recently,
incessant chirping
guilt.

This is
the kingdom we’ve
built,

a garden meant to wilt weren’t
it for a few
well-placed
walls.

We live in cities
without sprawl-
(less room for fault lines)
but large enough to be associated
with a native drawl.

Falling
forever just slightly left of
center,

my broken family’s
is an assault
on anything
resembling
normal.

But if I may
be so in
formal,
nothing immortal
(that matters)
survives in

one
piece
any
way.

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4 thoughts on “Patchwork Love

  1. I like how you talk about a quilt in regard to the “broken family” Usually a quilt invokes warm memories but here it’s kind of different even though each piece still makes up the whole.

    Like

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