I am the worms in the yellow walls
of the Concord house caused
by the shit-leaking upstairs toilet.
I am the molding water spot we both saw
but would not ever speak of.
I am the side yard weeds I said we’d pull.
You are the retaining wall, crumbling,
that we can’t afford to fix just yet.
Just yet.
I am the broken tooth becoming abscessed.
I am the dishes left, resentfully, unscrubbed.
I am the subtle but needlesome frown
Insisting you drink on weeknights. I am
The “you-used-to-be-fun” that finally
breaks you. Breaks us. It was always
just me. I am the last hole left
Next to pep and mum, unworthy.
note: this is one of a series of poems in a chapbook I’m working on entitled “yellows“. to read them in their intended order, start here.