NO ESCAPE

THE NEW DAY BRINGS 
JOY, EXCITEMENT, PEACE 
AND NEW EXPERIENCES,
LIKE A WALK IN THE PARK
LISTENING TO THE MANY SONGS 
THAT NATURE COMPOSES.

BUT HOW I HATED FRIDAYS,
FOR MANY, 
IT WAS THE BEGINNING 
OF A FESTIVE WEEKEND,
THE DEMANDS OF THE 7 AM WORK BELL
WOULD BE SILENCED 
FOR THE NEXT FORTY EIGHT HOURS.

MOTHER WOULD MAKE HER FINAL STOP 
AFTER WORK, AT THE NEIGHBORHOOD BAR,
FOR A DRINK OR TWO, WHICH EASILY TURNS INTO 
MANY EMPTY BOTTLES, SPRAWLED ACROSS THE TABLE, 
LIKE CHEST PIECES HOLDING THEIR GROUNDS.

IT WAS ALWAYS AROUND TEN O’CLOCK AT NIGHT,
THAT THE SQUEAKING NOISE OF OUR FRONT DOOR 
WOULD BE SILENCED BY HER ANGRY VOICE,
CALLING MY NAME, I REMINDED HER OF MY FATHER,
HE HAD LONG LEFT HER, FOR ANOTHER WOMAN.

I WAS LEFT TO PAY FOR THE SINS OF MY FATHER,
MOTHER WOULD HURLED INSULTS, AND PROFANITY,
ACCOMPANIED BY,
WHATEVER WAS WITHIN HER HAND REACH, 
AT HER ONLY CHILD, 
THAT MIRRORED THE LOOKS OF HIS FATHER.

MY CLOSET OF COLORFUL LONG SLEEVE SHIRTS
COVERS THE SCARS OF MY FATHERS SIN,
BUT WHEN FRIDAY COMES, I RELIVE THEM, ALL OVER AGAIN.

WILFORD BARKER.