Brooklyn

You were an ungrateful little shite, who missed family holidays, when you asked for paradise, not only a wish to share, that love but could not name, smiles for worried parents, are those lines too striped, in the wine you gave away, all that sleeping out at night, beyond windows frosted glare, your bloodless eyes astray, snow falling off your hair, clothes wrapped like a drainpipe, you’ll never change, Ma and Da asked why, a bed at hospital's side, orderlies rush around with trays, no more howls of childhood dislikes, you howl just the same.