Genetic Inheritance

The rearview mirror is a cruel way

to see a man who hasn't called in years.

I was just trying to clean my mouth,

working the floss through the traffic,

when I saw the dark door between my teeth.

It’s the same wide, empty hallway

he used to leave the house.

In the photo on the mantle, he’s thirty

and grinning like he isn't about to vanish.

There’s a fleck of black pepper

stuck right in the center of the void.

I look like a ghost with a dirty face.

I look like the reason my mother cries

when the light hits the kitchen just right.