Grey Hair

Your voice is gentle on the other line,
Listening as I tell you lies you’ve heard before.
I wish I could stop dialing your number
Or maybe one day, you just won’t answer.
Hoping eventually this cycle will end.
You say you’ve noticed my eyes sinking in
And the dark circles forming under them.
You said, “It breaks my heart
   To hear you say, ‘Can I have $40?’ [ pause ];
      Because you sound just like your father.”
The guilt that I’m feeling is heavy
And it’s breaking my back while I sit—
Tightening my tourniquet, grabbing a syringe.
   I’m sorry the apple fell so close to the paternal tree.
      I’m sorry our footsteps match up // perfectly.
         I’m sorry I’ve called when I said I wouldn’t.
            I’m sorry for taking you back here again,
               Nana, I’m sorry for giving you grey hair.