FAMILY WORK
It was always dark in the apartment,
so I used the light from the TV
to see the cereal I was eating from a plastic
clown bowl. I stared at the skyline through
wooden blinds wondering if I could fly.
I wore old pajamas and a corduroy robe.
My father left for work with attaché
and grey fedora. Already at work,
my mother was sitting in her disheveled
nightgown doing a crossword —
orange juice with gin within reach.
I used a bedroom with my two older sisters
who had already left for work. I slept
in the top of a double decker, with one
sister below, and the other along
an opposite wall. I kept my clothes
in a hallway closet outside their bathroom.