Thread: In My Father's House

I watch my father shove pills
down my brother's throat
before throwing him towards
the sink when he begins
to throw up. I run away
from the sounds of heaving
and cursing, past the photos
of my ancestors holding
babies in their arms,
and into my room where,
through the blinds, the
sunlight sharpens the darkness.

Though not filled with abstract imagery (which personally I like from a poem), the blunt way you describe this disturbing subject doesn't hinder you.

through the blinds, the
sunlight sharpens the darkness

I love this description, and it fits so perfectly with the poem to round it off.

I think, however, that it would benefit from a little more length. If it is not a dramatic monologue, and is from your own experience, then it feels as if this deeply personal issue is being only touched; it feels as though you're dipping your toes in, then pulling them out. I think adding some length would be very beneficial, especially if you can keep to the style and standard that you've left us with at the end of the poem, without slipping into too many sentimental opinions.

A promising piece of poetry.

I still am wondering why the heck that father is doing and why