A Bag of Gravel and a Box of Brandy

I want to thank you, mother, for the lifetime of lessons given me

Take this bag of gravel and box of brandy

For driving my father away before I could talk, or even walk in my own shoes

I thank you for teaching me how to find comfort in my own solitude, like you do with your booze

For introducing me at four to the thick stick in your hand

Thanks for busting my stone to gravel, teaching me to face adversity like bagged sand

For all your children and forcing me into their caretaker at eight

Thank-you for teaching me how to protect the meek and the mild from brutality and hate

For years of drunken reminders detailing each of my imperfections

Thank-you for teaching me to question every interaction and perception, including my own reflections

For the streak of rage poured into your core and all the hateful lies and deception

Thank-you for teaching me how to smell the stink of wickedness at its moment of conception

The box I ordered may seem like a trap and a bit tight at best

So I’ll push this bag of gravel under your chest and fill each void with a bottle of brandy so you find the best in your final rest

Gunner©