Wildfires

Bobby is
arrogant,
muscular,
my older brother.

Oh, how I wish the
Last one was a lie
And my parents adopted him.

Don’t ever doubt it;
I love my brother and I would
Never want to hurt him or
See other people hurt him.

I just wish he wasn’t
a
train wreck
of
emotional
destitution.

It’s not fair how he’s the
Golden child boy
And I’m stuck as second best.

As I cook dinner with
Beads of sweat trickling down
My heart-shaped chubby face,
I turn up the heat on the stove
Higher and higher
Until the soup boils over
Out of the pot.
And I’m
On my hands and knees
Wiping up the mess
Like the dreams I left broken in
My hand-painted porcelain jewelry box.

With a sick and twisted grin,
I take a large butcher knife;
Imagine it slicing up the impurities
All over my disgusting body.

Ana takes the knife from me,
Helps me cook something else,
Doesn’t say a word until
My family is home at last.

He better not say a fucking word to me.