Uncle

Between a spread of snowdewed flowerbeds 
And hot vanilla ciders 
Amongst the clamour of the children 
Wrapped in lights and shiny promises and mittens 
I have compared you to a summer’s day 
Because down where you live 
It is always summer 

Last winter I was decked out in a flashy dress
And I pretended not to miss you 
Drowning streams of whipped-cream colored vices 
In a rosy mug of melted chocolate 

Then I flew down to your convalescent beaches 
Before I could sprout wings 

There inside the airport 
I saw a reel of family pictures
Damaged film strip passing through my fingers
And at the outskirts of the frame 
Standing there between you and your conscientious uncle 
I saw myself 

For seven months I acted out 
The motions of familial aspirations 
Tapped into my stories every Friday until dusk 

I always thought that he would listen
Care enough to sell me the last ticket to the train
So like an underweight Olympic gymnast
I collected all the medals to demonstrate my worth

I always thought that I exuded kindness 
Checked off all the boxes screaming 
This can be your lovely niece-in-law
But this aberrant rat race 
Played out like a game of children playing tic-tac-toe 
How can you win if you are never first— 

You must admit you do not like how I was treated 
Badmouthed and my love refuted 
Taking all my friendship and devotion— 
Over several hours out of blindness and vituperation—
Turning it to rage  

And now

I’m standing by a large black house 
And the windows have been frosted over 
But my hands are wedged inside my pockets
The shining sun has been impeached
And I cannot see your fireplace inside

Maybe winter wasn’t made up of 
Diminishing returns, but every fleeting moment adds 
Another fantasy of loving you 
Across the tendrils of the chasm 
Separated by an obsolescent truth 

Fishing for the words to say 

I gave you my attention 
Showered you with incandescent platitudes  
And then I turned against your uncle 
Who doesn’t have a thought for you 
Has he, sir, gone off his rocker, 
Repurposing my strife to catalyze his disembodied schism 

I have been stymied by remembrances of looking out 
When now I cannot see what it is like inside

I think that someday we’ll be at some goddamn family reunion, 
Or perhaps some happy couple’s wedding, 
Or, God forbid, a funeral, 
And then I’ll see him standing there 
Decked out in a t-shirt and pair of adolescent diapers 
Finding fault with everything that’s right
Refusing yet another warranted apology 
In a jejune fight to show that he is always right!   

Well maybe you and I will someday retire 
On the Spanish Riviera 
And like a nymphet I will breathe undying sighs
And they shall say, 
The passersby that obfuscate the sunset, 
There’s something wrong about that family!