Reports of an Accident, the Story of a Family - Rebecca del Rio

[Larry Robinson]

Reports of an Accident, the Story of a Family 

The car was red; it was
white, 
a silver sedan, with four
doors, sports model, 
convertible. Rusted out, 
late model, new
off-the-showroom floor. 

She stepped off the curb
into traffic. She was
in the crosswalk, 
on the shoulder. 
It was dusk and the car’s
lights were on, 
were  off. It was still
light outside. She was hidden 
by a sign,
a tree; 
she was out in the open. 
She was suicidal; 
the driver was homicidal.

They wanted all their children.
They wanted just one.
She beat them, she 
adored them. He loved them, 
ignored them. 
I was the favorite. 
She was the favorite. 
He was the favorite.

They were rich; 
they were poor.
I was spoiled; she was neglected.
She was spoiled; 
I was an extra.
He was privileged;
Sent to private school.

Their dog was Hot,
Spot, a dachshund, a doberman,
A purebred, a mutt
from the neighbor’s litter.

The mother meant her to have
more than the others,
she wanted
all four to have equal. 

She was always faithful, 
loyalties in motion,
shifting sides.

He was the only one
who knew what was true. 
She was the only one
who understood,

Spinning like special suns,
each her own galaxy, 
his own eternity,
a select reality. History,
woven and unravelling.
World without end.
Amen. Amen. 

	- Rebecca del Rio