Intelligent design

A birthmark
Or two or three
A cut above his eye
A cut above his other eye
One bruise on her leg
Or two
Or thirty seven
Hundred
Whining
Screaming
Fighting
Constantly
And now she’s afraid of
Death and
New people
And suddenly I feel
Just as I felt tonight
In the backyard
Surrounded by
Plants in various states of distress
And weeds
And not as much grass as there should be
Except
I can’t tear everything up and start again
Go inside
Or move away
Maybe
I’ll finally have to develop an eye for
Beauty marks
Patina and
Intelligent design