Forgiveness

We are visiting Aunt.

I hate the hospital smell.

I have a neat bunch of irises

that Uncle got for me.

He is chiller than Father,

he listens when I speak.

Aunt gives me a shock.

Her face is smashed-in,

badly purple, swollen.

But she greets me

like she’s normal.

She will be coming home

next week. I smile. We talk.

I try not to stare at the gory bits.

Aunt’s mind is sharp,

though she looks broken.

If Father did this,

I shall not forgive him.

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