The Blues I Don't Want to Remember

When I ended up locked
in a room between them.
My mother was sitting on the bed
twisting her hands and he beat

on the door demanding to be let in.
I was six and the song
of a man still could fool me.

Let Daddy in, sweetheart
Let your Daddy in
I searched for this honey in anyone's
mouth for close to thirty years,

then I wised up.—Have I finally wised up?
Let Daddy in, baby
Come on, let your Daddy in

I almost turned the knob that day
until my mother called to me.
Don't open that door
Child, don't open that door

Now I hear her threatening
as my pen scratches across this page.
She wants to remind me

that truth telling can leap on you
with a backhanded fierceness,
leave a black and blue mark in the morning
that will throb through the night long.