Duplex by Jericho Brown A poem is a gesture toward home. 
It makes dark demands I call my own.                Memory makes demands darker than my own:
               My last love drove a burgundy car. My first love drove a burgundy car.
 He was fast and awful, tall as my father.                Steadfast and awful, my tall father
              Hit hard as a hailstorm. He’d leave marks. Light rain hits easy but leaves its own mark 
Like the sound of a mother weeping again....