*the only beings whose life is irremediably and achingly linked to happiness
all happy families are alike; each unhappy family is
unhappy in its own way so said leo tolstoy in anna k
happiness shiny rosy boring fleeting
were we one? yes as long as we kept
our parent’s demons in separate rooms
our brother’s outsized wound revisited on
the son who has 2 sons +will be searching
for his father in their eyes under beds on giant
waves which do not wash away the original sin
we were never boring! ignoring all the signs that
one day we’d be pressed together in hallways fathers
dying on gurneys but also in dining rooms going through
motions we think: this is what happy families do
but the porch light is out maybe we’re in the wrong house
who are these happyfuckers who vaguely resemble me?
we are a richly textured unhappyfamily who once went on a
holiday and a small turd floated above a swimming brother
on lake nipissing
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Fall 2019
*(Giorgio Agamben, Moyen sans fins)
songanddancegirl 