count to six: a poem
tw: abuse
one
you used to pick me up, sit me on your shoulders. i’d hold onto your neck, taller than anyone on the ground. i’d pull on your hair and laugh, pointing at everything i could see from this high.
two
you picked me up and threw me onto the stairs. you pushed my back, spitting, pushed and pushed up and up, until i was in my room and you slammed the door.
three
upstairs, there was a voice yelling, vibrating through the ceiling. there were stomping feet. sometimes i worried the ceiling would fall down while i did my math homework. the voice was always yours.
four
we haven’t done a father-daughter date in a long time, you said, your voice wistful. why don’t we go canoeing before you go to college?
okay, i said. that would be fun. we sat there in the backyard in comfortable silence, watching the sun set until mosquitos began to bite.
five
i almost suffocated in the closet after you chased me up the stairs. on the flight back to college, i sat with wide eyes, wondering who you were. realizing that you never really wanted to go canoeing.
six
you wanted to believe you were a good dad.
