When you were a child there were few choices.
One of them shared with your brother was whether,
between the two of you, there was enough warmth to choose
a half hour of television over the electric blanket, which
your father controlled from the car battery, the only electricity.
A survivalist, fear was his love maker and as he beat
the two of you with whatever was close at hand, tree switch,
belt, or fist, I’m sure if you were to ask him now,
he would tell you he was exorcising the fear out of you,
the fear he could not leave behind himself. Being
is hard work, enough and not enough, a scheme to get
rich quick and decades of failure. All the while
you fetching water from the well that seemed to change
position every time you wrestled the trees to find it.
Andrea England earned her MFA at Arizona State University and her PhD at Western Michigan University. She is the author of two chapbooks, OTHER GEOGRAPHIES (2017) and INVENTORY OF A FIELD (2014). Her poems have appeared in Sonora Review, The Boiler, Midwestern Gothic, Roar Magazine and elsewhere. She lives in Kalamazoo, Michigan with six hens, one dog, one rat, as well asher human family. More of her work can be found at andreajengland.com.