A Tear for Regret

You made us share bunk beds

bubble-baths back-seat car-rides

& every second weekend.



At the footy, you made us share the esky

for a foothold to see over the heads on the hill

bought us salt‘n’vinegar samboys

- when my favourite flavour was BBQ -

& a single can of home-brand soft drink

that Mick always backwashed in.



He was the son of your body

I was the son of your woman

& you couldn’t even share her.

Oh, it wasn’t like Oedipus

when I slew you each night in my dreams,

but the vengeance of Zeus against his false father

Cronos, who ate babies

as they birthed from the Mother’s womb.



You said they were dead

stillborn brothers & sisters

but when I kicked you in the guts

out they spewed perfect & pink

covered in your gall.



I killed you a thousand times

after the backhanders you dealt

& the poisoned scorn of your tirades

I vowed a thousand more bloody deaths

for the tears of my mother.



You taught me to share

but you shared nothing

not a hug nor kind word.

When I listened to your beer-soaked

good-nights as you tucked in your son

I pretended to sleep when you bade me terse dismissal.



Table manners were a sham for you shunned the table

said we disgusted you

I wished for an edge to my butterknife

& pissed on your toothbrush before bedtime.

Your harsh words in raised voice

echoed through my childhood

& if I fought back feeble words & blows

raised only your scorn & more pulled backhanders.



Did you but love me as well as you despised

we’d have grown old together

telling stories of tribulation

training wheels & tying shoelaces.



My first day at school

you barely slowed the car

depositing me alone without backward glance

the tears of classmates seemed too pitiful to shed.



You taught me some useful things

like lifting the toilet seat & putting it back down

& always turning out the light

& reading your mind

& sharing everything with your son.



You taught me to hate & it was one thing

- in your eyes - I did well.



Some day, old cunt

I’ll teach you to share too

when I visit your grave & take a long, warm piss

for you to share with the worms

spit bile on your headstone

& the only tear will be for regret

that 2000 wishes didn’t kill you sooner.