Twenty Six November Two Thousand Thirteen Poem by James McLain

When you find this missive I'll be gone.
Each time I've seen you, your mother said I molested you.
D.C.F. hasn't come yet to ask me to prosecute her.
Again I won't.
A lot of folks think something strange if you see the bigger picture.
Which is you.
No child should go through this,
alcoholism and untreated mental illness.
Before I left your mum years ago I told them all.
Today at nine a.m. I was supposed to go to court for you.
I did not, maybe now they'll help her to get right.
Maybe you won't find this note my daughter.
I hope you have not seen to much stuff you shouldn't.
I would have taken you years ago but backwards Florida.
Do you understand why you had to raise your mother?