it runs in the family

my father counts tornados with tallies that
he etches in a pillar in the living room.
i want to tell him he is so doomsday. 
the tornados are just trying to laugh & besides 
there's still water left. i got out to feed the tornados. 
handfuls of cherries for them to red with. these days, 
i red all the time. dipping my face in bruises. 
finding a wound in the dirt to talk to. i need 
a fresh destruction. my father eats new moons & then 
doesn't open his lips for days. what are you trying to contain?
if i shouted like i need to, i'd just disaster this house.
the forest would be five tally marks. 

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