An Explanation

i never know how to explain the concept of broken homes

to people who have never experienced them.

how do you explain that there are cracks in windows that

you cannot see until your fingers brush over them

and suddenly

those fractured parts

are swallowing all of your focus?

i try to tell them,

sometimes the sidewalk cracks grow flowers,

but i do not have any definite words

that can explain the way blood stains

from scraped knees

look like rust

on pavement.

i do not have any definite words

for the way

mom’s bloody nose is a river

and dad’s temper is rocky

and my eyes are smoke and ash

as the salt crawls out of them and rolls

down my cheeks

and into

my

mouth.