Our conversation spurred me to recall
that 15 years ago the course was set.
Two kids were babies then, adored when small,
the third a year from breathing air and yet,
the atmosphere at home was trending cruel –
at least one parent pompous, self-proclaimed
and inarticulate. He seemed a fool
but brutal; wit and courtesy he maimed.

For me his talent gave him no excuse.
But I had no control and little say.
Implying that some acts looked like abuse,
my view was disregarded. Every stay
was garlanded with themes that didn’t blind me,
and so our talk last week served to remind me.