I stalk my memory for discord
between my parents and find none
There were no shouting bouts, no
spiteful silence, no wading
wash of toxic tides

If they fought (and they must have)
it was behind closed doors
If they seethed it was under cover
Was the flawless facade of harmony
a triumph over, or a harbinger of
the Friday afternoon my father would fail
to return home from work?

I later learned of his confessed affair
and how my mother labored to forgive
but I sensed no evidence, saw
no puffed eyes, heard
no roiling accusations

My brother’s marriage is punctuated
by word carnage, his refusal to hide
the evidence in case of a fall
I ooze the opposite strategy
fearing anger like the devil
perpetual victim of an emotional blindside
still whirling out of control

Posted for Vice Versa # 12 @ Poets United</a> and OpenLinkNight Week 58 @