I keep my mother's suffering to myself
it's not mine to share, just mine
to learn
along with all the other things stored
under the floorboards of the family home
the conversations I was too young to have
overheard from the landing
peeking through the spaces between
the balustrades
that become the spaces between my ribs
as I grew into this body, this
haunted house I've inherited
where every generation takes
their turn huddling
at the top of the stairs watching
what happens below
my hallways now full of ghosts' raised voices
my mouth the front door deadbolted
secrets settling
with the dust in the back of my throat
bones carved with arcs of punches thrown before I existed all of us
brokenhanded clawing at the exit