He left behind

One(1) fractured cabinet door, split down the middle when he

                lost control and slammed it

three(3) broken, burnt out lamps

1)ne torn cotton sundress (my mother’s,) because when he left in June,

                 Running down the hall screaming “¡Te voy a matar!”

5ive) tired boxes of clothes that smell like loss

If I write I can rewrite

a history without him, without a list of broken things,

I can write for those who know

what it is to see

monsters

All I’ve inherited

               is a thousand battered nerves,

a poem about emptiness

but enough tears

to wash his face from my memories.