Brakes are set on my wheelchair by the window

of some triple-chin mountain reclining Hitchcock

movie I sneak down and shudder on the staircase

as birds beaks blood blast across the screen I push

my face against as our mow-the-lawn-every-Friday

neighbor Ed is lowered into a squad car in handcuffs

after his wife is found buried beneath a bank of lilies

wafting throughout the house when I still think Mom

is coming home from the hospital listening to Dad’s

speech on baseball and Churchill over dinner peas

breathing in and out tripping to brother’s Led Zeppelin

beat by a husband who keeps his nails sharp

turn as we snort angel dust three cars on the highway

my sister sucks in and hands me a joint of my hips replaced

with metal railings the nurse snaps shut my lips

when you say it’s a snag in our marriage ripe

with the bloom of wedding photographs

that freeze our faces happy

as the lady in white shoves me

from side to side to secure

my sagging diaper