(no subject)

You never imagine
falling out of love
with your Mother
or your sister.

What do you do when
you turn to your Father
and see only a stranger?

There is no bittersweet song,
no cathartic chorus
to mark the end of
this family affair.

No separating of CDs
or reclaiming of sweaters.

We can't be the first
to have reached
the end point,
yet there is no
ritualistic closure,
predefined finality
for us to wield.

We continue to hobble along
- battered and hollowed ,
not certain of how to
severe the connection.