Autumn Sky Poetry . . . Number 20 . . .

The Confession

     by Marc Massari

I've watched an alcoholic walk a tightrope through the house

to see if she would stumble. I was glad

to dream a bit of mischief, then release it like a mouse,

stand back and watch the elephants go mad,

satisfied the chaos would upset her. When she fell

without her family's sympathetic net

to catch her, I looked down where she lay paralyzed in hell

and said, "I hope you drink yourself to death."

It was in retribution for the time when I was small

and she, a star so massive her collapse

dragged me through oblivion, for though I can't recall

each day that passed, I know I spent them trapped

in her disaster. Now, I find I can't believe

the state she's in. I visit her, ashamed

of who my mother is, it's true, but mostly I'm relieved

because I know she doesn't realize who I am.


Marc Massari holds a Master of Fine Arts degree from the University of Southern Maine, and is a student at Washington and Lee University School of Law. His work has been featured in Chaffin Journal, Queer Ramblings, Open Minds Quarterly, New Orphic Review, and Candelabrum. He currently lives in Lexington, Virginia, where he frequently cuts class to write poetry. He plans to make an excellent attorney.


© 2011 Marc Massari