Pebbles, Rocks, and Rats.

The pebble is to the rock
like a child is to his father
like a daughter is to her father
like a seed is to a flower
like a crumb is to a cracker
the pebble when thrown into the water makes a splash
and then a ripple.
The crumb when dropped on the floor makes not a sound
and is there weeks later when you finally get around to sweeping
unless you have a dog
or a rat
to come behind you
and clean up your messes.

Who cleans up the mess a pebble makes
when it is thrown at my sister's window late at night
it pulls her out of bed
down to the lake for a quick roll in the hay
or the behind the bushes.

The daughter is to her mother
like my sister is to me
and the punishment is rippling its effects here thirty years later
but my daughter is only like my mother if she has the same father
and my son is not like his
and a crumb is like a cracker
it tastes the same
but it will never be quite as nourishing
and a pebble never does as much damage as a rock thrown.

If you'd thrown a rock through my window
I'd have heard and understood years ago
I'm not my sister
I'm not my father
I'm too busy cleaning up the crumbs before the dogs
or the rats
get to them

I'm like my mother
Next time
if there is a next time
scream my name
I'll answer
And I won't throw stones
or waste crumbs
but I will make a splash
and our circles will meet
eventually