Cody runs to smother his fear in Cherry Garcia, and I go to face my uncle alone. (III) I’ll never understand how a man can live his life With his finger on the self-destruct button, Holding it there day after day, Blinded by an obsession to press it But lacking the conviction to do even that. This was my Uncle Hoyt before today, But today, the auto-destruct sequence is engaged, And counting down. My uncle has taken up batting practice with dinnerware. A minefield of broken china and glass Litters the floor in every room. He lobs a gravy boat into the air, I believe it was once my grandmother’s, Then he swings the Louisville Slugger, Detonation in blue and white shrapnel. I can smell scotch everywhere And wonder how much of that amber poison Is pickling his brain. He hurls a teacup, swings, and misses, Taking out the hanging kitchen lamp instead. And he mumbles, “Close enough.” I should turn tail, I should just let him be, But if I’ll ever make a stand, It must be here; it must be now, And though I know I’m not wired for war, The time has finally come to fight my own nature. I’m ready for this dance. (IV) A swing of the bat, the sound of my voice, Tentative, timid, a catch in my throat, I must take command, I must take the lead, A swing of the bat, a shattering glass. I move through the madness and reach for the bat, Wrench it away from his white-knuckled hands, I toss it behind me and don’t miss a beat, Time for my uncle to learn a new step. He turns like a scorpion ready to strike, But his stinger is dull and his venom is weak, His eyes blaze with anger, his soul burns with bile, Like the world is to blame for all of his misery. “Go get your brother; we’re leaving tonight, There’s more work up north; there’s more hope than here, You’ll do what I tell you; you’ll do what I say, You’ll go pack your things, ’cause we’re leaving right now.” The room is in ruins, his bridges are burned, And Cody and I are still chained to his fate, His life lies in ruins; his life is not mine, He gave me these shackles, but I can break free. And I say to him “No” with a break in my voice, “NO!” sounding much more commanding, “We’re not going anywhere; neither are you, You’ll back off right now, or you’ll feel my hand.” “So do it,” he says with a strange, slanted grin, I dare you to hit me—go on, take me down! What are you waiting for? Knock yourself out, But don’t start a fight you can’t finish.” A line in the sand, a dare there between us, My hand is a weapon; my blood’s in a boil, I strain to move mountains; I strain to swing free, Denying my nature, I raise up my arm. Let me, for once, be the bruising brutality, Let me at last be a fist in the face Of the vicious injustice my brother and I Have endured at the hands of our uncle. But my fist is still fixed by invisible shackles, The mountain won’t move; my hand won’t swing free, I cannot deliver; I only receive, And he gloats at his victory, laughs at my shame. “You’re weak and you’re worthless, that’s why you need me. You’re helpless and hopeless; your brother’s the same You’ll remember how lucky you are that I’m here. So you’ll take what I dish, and you’ll like it.” Then he shifts with a slouch and slumps in a chair, Something is wrong with him, wrong with me, too, I can’t feel my arm, and I can’t move my shoulder, Feet start to tingle, and skin starts to itch, My hand’s still a fist that I cannot unravel, My face has gone loose, like an avalanche slide, My tongue becomes rubber; my lungs barely breathe, I fall to the ground as my left leg gives way, And there in the chair Uncle Hoyt is the same, Our eyes are now locked in a clear understanding, What falls on my uncle rebounds out to me, Oh, my God—he’s having a stroke! (V) “TakeItAway, TakeItAwayFromMeBoy, ThasWhyYerrHere, IKnowThatNow…ThasWhy Y’Came SssoManyYearsAgo, WhyYerMomDid WhutSheDid…NowYerr MySssecondLife, MySssecondShance, SssecondShance TahMakeSssomething A Mysself, TahDoItRight, NoMore YearssA LivinOn TheEdge A MyOwnLoussyLife, NeverNothin More AnClosedDoorss An MishedOpportunitiess… ButYerrChanginThat, you’re ChanginThat RightNowFerMe, Brewshter, you’re Makin’ It all all right, My BrokenSpiritBecomin’ yours, My SsorryBodyBecoming yours, I CanFeel it
