London, 1976

When I see Mom that morning

I know

what all the noise

 

has been about:

her black eye,

a shadow I can’t really look at.

 

And now we’ll come up

with a story:

this is our family vacation after all and we’re here

 

at Russell Court hanging our heads.

I’ll be free of these people,

but then I know I never will be

 

as I see my own hand about to

strike, an action I can’t stop.

I note it.  As another wrong.  I’ll never right.