To my uncle, who took me home at 3 AM

I was already awake when you came to my door

But instead of throwing it open,

Or flashing the light switch,

Or shouting from a different room,

Five gentle knocks

Made their way to my ears

“Are you awake?”

And I wanted to tell you

That I value you for respecting me

But that’s difficult to articulate at 3 AM

(Or at any other time)

So instead, I say, “Yeah,”

And start getting ready to go.

When I grab my things, you’re by the car

You tell me that the truck is warming

So when I step inside, I won’t be as cold

Except for a bit at the knees and the elbows

You go to find your hat

But for once, I don’t feel rushed,

Although you have work in about an hour,

And we’re already 15 minutes late.

I wish it was easy, to connect with you,

The way I do with my aunt, or maybe my brother,

But I have long since learned to make myself small

In the presence of men

On the off chance that they will expand

And I might be in their way.

You must have the same issues,

You want to speak to me, as well,

But we grew up in the same house

And old habits die hard.

You say, “What’s up, sleepyhead?”

I don’t respond

Except to laugh

Over the sound of rock

Playing on the radio.

I’m used to pressing my ears

Against the cracks of walls or doorways

Or against my soft pillow

In an attempt to hear or to block out

The sounds of a male voice screaming

Or objects thrown against the wall

Or against the floor

Or doors slamming,

Or doors shoved open so roughly

That they dent the walls of our trailer

Or tools, screeching loudly

Against wood, or metal,

In the dark of midnight,

Working on something that doesn’t need to be fixed,

Or something that couldn’t wait til morning, apparently,

But something that he would complain about, all the same.

You understand this, of course:

You survived the same man

So, better than anyone, I think you know me

And yet, I still can’t talk to you

Without my aunt being in the room.

Throughout the course of my lifetime,

My mother introduced me to several men,

There’s Brandon,

Tattoo (I never learned his real name)

Bobby

Mitchell

My own father, at some point

Many more who I don’t remember.

I have many memories of her visits,

Or of our visits to her house,

Where she would be dressed in bruises

Purple, black and red

Green and white

What happened to your face, Amanda?

Oh, well you see,

Ive been on a bender, you know how drugs are,

Street fights,

Eventually, she wound up at our house

After surgery on her ankle,

What happened to your ankle, Amanda?

Oh, you know, I jumped out of a moving car

And she left our house

Three days later

To go back to the man who owned the car.

I used to wonder, as a child,

Why she wasn’t married,

But now I’m thankful, because I hear

That a punch to the face

Would be much more painful

If the assaulter was wearing a ring.

I remember, on my first weekend at your house,

Or maybe it was my second?

We were in the garage

And my aunt had went inside,

When you asked me

“Do you have a dream job?”

And I was a bit hesitant to say,

Because it made me feel childish

But I did tell you

That I wanted to become a marine biologist

And you cocked your head, smiled at me

And immediately, I felt stupid,

But you were just surprised

“Do you know what my dream job was?”

And I asked you what it was,

“A marine biologist, when I was fifteen,”

My fifteenth birthday was in a few months

So I asked you, “Why didn’t you become one?”

You said to me,

“I think you know why,”

And I did. I knew why before the question even left my mouth,

Because we both were raised with the same people,

And I think, I realized then

Maybe we aren’t so different

Maybe, unlike most men,

You’re actually touchable

Maybe that’s why

It’s so hard

For me to talk to you.

So to my uncle, who took me home at 3 AM,

Back to those people he had to survive

I’m sorry that the ride home was filled with silence

Except for the occasional joke

And rock

Playing on the radio.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/y7vcfq/if_found_pls_call/isydpxc/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf&context=3

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/y82c5y/unconditional/isyaaw9/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf&context=3