1.
The day the
elderly f*cked us
was a Thursday
and on the
Friday
we awoke to
what had happened.
They'd given our
inheritance
to a box
already bursting
with its lies
and its mistrust and wasted life.
Dear
Grandparents,
your alzheimers
won't prevent us
from recalling
that dark night
2.
Will the anger
leave
when that line
still snakes
the waiting
remains
and the faceless
distant aren't there to blame.
Where now will their
anger go?
Where will their
jabbing finger point?
