the day of ________

today is the day of _______

that line is heavy with silence. the silence of

a funeral where no open casket is permitted lest there be

screams.

the silence of

hush-little-baby-don't-you-cry being sung to adults rather than children,

lullabied to sedate sexuality

the silence of oral cancer

and i'm not talking about the sleeping-together kind.

i'm talking about the kind transmitted via salvia spit

not saliva/body fluids shared.

the silence of my dad.

so...you two--are you two getting married?

i swallow the spit saliva.

it tastes bitter but it's a bitterness familiar to my tongue.

when i respond, he breaks my heart with absinthian syllables.

you do know you're separating yourself from us even more with this choice,

don't you?

silence.

i shovel the mexican food down and taste the tears flooding, breathing,

entreating my dad to not let me go.

but it's in the silence that the cohesion breaks

and i'm left with a family clinging on to remnants of me that never even existed

today is the day of ________

funny how it's saying more than words ever could.