I Am From Black-and-white Television

By Nancy Breen

I am from Black-and-white television,
from Crest toothpaste and Dawn dishsoap.
I am from the Two story brick and wood with black shutters and wire fence,
slick blue basement floors with rollerskate markings, plaid orange couches that dust motes rise from,
creaking wooden floors with the chance of splinters.

I am from the crabapple trees that provide ripe ammunition.
I'm from teasing and pouring over maps before and after a trip
from Dennis and Judy.

I'm from stubborness and miscommunication.
I'm from like it or lump it and beggars can't be choosers and
I must go down to the sea again, to the lonely sea and the sky and Hail Mary, full of grace.

I'm from Cincinnati, Ohio.
I'm from Irish/German
Stove Top stuffing and braunschweiger.

From Dad slid off the road on Christmas morning in the snow. I screamed the loudest.
My brothers held me over the fish pond filled with their crawdads they caught at the creek.
My parents existed in a cloud of cigarette smoke.
in a cardboard box I only recently found after our move and my divorce
I need to see our happy faces together..