Domestic Violence

I recall the importance of round objects.
This is how my father and I touched--

baseballs, tennis balls, ping pong’s
fragile skull eggs, shotgun shell

BBs pouring waterfalls of lead
through fingers. It is important

to keep moving. I learned to love
the free-wheeling tricks my body could do,

its grace under pressure, the way it could
spiral away from mind into beauty.

I dove for all the catches; I balanced
on one leg. I laughed at my clumsy brain

behind its scarred back, secretly
cheered when it was the last one chosen.

I practiced my own handicap. Carefully broke
all the bones in my mind.