Prompt: violent
Mother is angry.
The boys have vandalized the garden.
Their science experiment has filled the house with fumes.
They have sealed their sisters in the basement.
The parakeet lies dead on the floor of his cage.
Father has locked himself in his Den with the Financial Times.
He smokes his cigar and closes his ears.
The bathrooms are flooded.
The kitchen’s on fire.
Someone peed in the fishbowl.
Mother is angry.
She grew this garden.
She made this house.
She will bring them down with her own hands.
She raises her fists.
The foundation crumbles.
The roof shakes.
Her eyes turn dark as dung beetles.
Her hair hisses.
She is Kali. She is Medusa.
Mother is angry.
She has booked a flight.
She has called a cab.
She is leaving us in our own mess.
She’s had enough
of two a.m. feedings,
midnight vomit,
four o’clock nightmares.
Let someone else walk the dog,
clean the cat box,
soothe the sibling-inflicted wounds.
She doesn’t give a damn
who Father fucks when he works late,
how many D’s on report cards,
whether that rash is measles or malaria.
When the children are hungry
let them raid their father’s cupboard.
Hers is bare.
Recent Comments