foster lot

it isn’t a wonder they upend me
i was a ward of the state once and only forever will be again
with just 7 years in the system
i understand public property and servitude
straight white lines drawn around empty stuck spaces
only ever coming or going,
no staying
or resolve
only waiting
with desire,
and ignominy
for things that do not come to foster lots

the last time i wrote about this memory, i said i watched him
from the parking lot of my foster mother’s hand, which was to say, yes, we were in the parking lot outside the stop ‘n shop in groton city and also holding her hand in that moment felt like being held captive against a lie i knew to be true. the official receipt of the incident, said that i noticed him, ‘fishing’ through the garbage- like he was your dad just out for some weekend respite at the lake upstate

even now i choose the spots as far away as reasonably possible- i tell people it’s because i don’t like parking so close to the other cars or that i enjoy the extra exercise and that’s probably true, it could also be true that i’ve never stopped seeing him there; never stopped looking with eyes
past a body
and a heart
that are still trying to accept & collect
themselves.

my parking lot- a piece of art i created this week to honor some of my experiences with the foster care system.


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