father and mother never divorced
his terrible nightmares replayed 
the ghosts of years of tragedy

the youngest child was eighteen
when it all ended in a bang
haunting our memories of home

with holidays forever tainted
and the wrong parent gone
our mysteries are left unsolved

sleepwalking thru the funeral
we stand numb as dirt is spaded 
and deaf as our secrets are traded

whispered scandals accumulate
but we still know less than ever
no one will talk about what happened

if they had split years ago
he might have lived and loved
but we would not have survived

so is his death the price
taken for our three lives or
just a hopeless exit strategy

c. 3/13/09, B. Riley