This class exercise began when several group members spoke about being a middle child. I used this notion to create the relationships between three male children. 

 

Voice Male

 

My middle-child voice

A nuisance like thick dust on the piano

Brushed aside, past over, colored invisible

Unattached, severed from my talents or dreams

Even I disassociate from its meekness

 

My older brother’s voice

Imbedded in gym-toned biceps

Boldly in tune with disciplined beauty

My younger brother’s vocal magic

Streams across the family table with delight

Nuanced from academics and travel abroad

Perfect males according to our dad

 

Caught in birth order as a fledgling in tar

Words of blame and shame ground me

Glued to my soul, thick and bulky

Since my father caught me in the garage

Playing with the boy next door

Found, exposed

In the muck of my deepest questions

 

Now I stand on the earth, my voice rising

From healed roots, cleansed and taking flight

Imagining my head on my father’s lap

His voice shrouded in cigar smoke and rum

The day he will hold my cheek in his palm

And ask me, “ How are you, my son?”