ghosts around the kitchen table | a poem rereading your body

you moved from one home to the next

and I understood that the world is a ghost town


you were scared of what I couldn’t see


I was born tense

I was born, muscles contracting

I was born expecting a fight

my father’s face undone by death threats


create a world apart

but nothing else had ever existed in his head


he confronts ghosts

revisits the lost past

recreates himself in his mind

and nobody takes part

nobody sees a thing

the past stays the past

and he is stuck but feels like he’s doing something

peace is out of reach

money has spoken


there’s a big picture

and there is one detail amongst the many

that acts like an avalanche

and I was told to stop digging


and I learned that, with you,

I must believe what I’m not hearing


I disengaged because you were never real


when you attacked us,

you had your forefathers behind your back


I’ve never seen their faces

but I’ve received their beatings


spectres with lost causes

raised me with loose hopes

and violence unfinished


you were taught that your body should hurt

and you added language to be lethal


there are ruins of history

and then there’s history invented

My own drawing © Laura Gentile 2021 | Instagram: @melpomenepaintings

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