The door explodes,

a storm of splinters.

Through the wreckage stomps

a giant armed with rage and leather.

The belt goes up in slo-mo,

bathroom light flashing on the buckle.

I’m crouched on slick cold tiles,

back against the tub, and I

look up into a red face.

The giant’s lips are drawn back,

bloodshot eyes glare down.

I am the giant’s son, but too small for his liking.

Too weak of body, fingers unstained by engine oil.

Too large of gut and motivation for his liking.

Not ambitious enough in the chasing of tail.

The belt comes down

to lash flesh and mind.

Now I’m the ace of Adverse Childhood Experiences,

piloting my life like a crashing airliner....

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