A STORIED HISTORY

I come out
of a long
& proud
tradition
of addiction.
My mother
was the first
to have her mouth
opened
to greet
a five milligram
valium rolling
off the conveyer belt
back in the fifties
before the word "generic"
was coined.
My father
was pretty good
with the codeine
& scotch;
he was also quick
with the belt
whistling through
his pant loops
& whipping me
& my brother. He
was so good
at hiding his shit,
he was voted dad
of the year
by those Jews
of appearances.

The blood of cowards
runs through our veins.
Blissfully,
we treat each day
as a stranger
to be feared: Like you,
today, arriving
on my doorstep
weary & beaten-up
from your long long journey,
wanting to believe
you've found
a more forgiving home
only to find another
searching heart
instead.

Norman Savage
Greenwich Village, 2015