YOUR FATHER AND I

By Lauren Kim 

 

Their words crack like whips lashing  

out of their lacerated throats until they’re nothing left 

but split, slit, shredded skin and bones.  

They fight until one is left beaten 

and the other bent.  

 

They leave, not permanently, 

just long enough for the wounds to scab over– 

him outside for a smoke by the back of the house 

where there are no windows for weeping little eyes  

to see him breaking his promise to quit,  

and her to the basement to drown herself in laundry. 

 

They come back; they always do– 

him to the living room to escape into football  

and her to the kitchen to prepare dinner for the family.  

On nights like these, the pasta sauce comes from a jar. 

It’s the nasty kind that we hate because  

it tastes like she doesn’t care anymore.  

 

They meet each other’s eyes at the table  

and come to a silent assumption: 

him right in his mind and her right in hers. 

He starts to eat a little quicker and she a little slower.  

He’s the first one to leave the table, and she’s the last.  

I place my head against her heavy shoulders.  

 

“Oh, don’t worry, sweetie. We would never get divorced. 

We love you guys too much.” 

 

I know that, Mom.  

I’ve never doubted that. 

I only wish you would love each other  

just as much.  

 

 

 

Lauren’s Bio: 

Lauren Kim is from Tenafly, New Jersey. Although she is currently pursuing a career in medicine, her passion for writing has influenced her decision to major in English. In her free time, Lauren loves hanging out with her family and friends. Her works of fiction and poetry are largely inspired by the people in her close circle, and they are no longer surprised when they find that something they did or said ends up in one of her stories!