Father sits at the head of the table
Strong and loud and proud.
Across the corner, to his right
Mommy sat up straight.
Straight across again from her,
Is stubby chubby Bobby.
A yawn,
a stretch,
His eyes are fighting lack of rest.
He was awake far too late,
but can you blame the boy?
He turns sixteen today.
Finally, was little Annie
half her brothers age.
She sat alone at the table’s end
A chair apart from mother,
A chair away from Bobby.
She hid behind the table’s edge
That faced her towards her daddy.
Her face she hid in the elbow-pit
of her bent right arm,
hoping no one notices
the scratches that cover her face.
“So good to have us all together,”
Father shouts away,
“A shame, indeed, when work keeps me
from my loving family.”
His hair is short, straight, stiff and blonde,
gelled perfectly in place,
Yes, so very neat and clean.
Though, not so flattering.
The hair has a hateful streak
you’d swear,
It seems determined
to bloat and puff,
the Rosacea cheeks he wears.
The sun dyed shadows underneath
the neatness he perceives as
all important.
The cousin of Rudolph
he could be called,
his cheeks ignite and flush,
but still he wears his toothless smile
after tasting his ten A.M. toddy.
Mommy’s hair is a black whirlwind
attempt at taming with a scrunchie,
Yet failing to mask the mess it was.
Understandable,
acceptable,
she had cleaned the house again.
Wiped every crease
and every surface
no filth hides from her hawk eyes
Though the house was spotless
when she began.
She still smiles,
“Oh yes! So good!
It’s been too long indeed!
We all are grateful for father’s attendance,
for Bobby’s sweet sixteen.”
Bobby’s smile didn’t fit his face,
He’s too fat to reveal all his teeth.
No fault of his of course,
happenstance and lottery
Still,
that smile of his is one you simply never seem to want to see.
“I’m really quite ecstatic myself,”
Bobby proclaimed (every tooth exposed),
His teeth fade away
He looks at his plate
“And although I know, I still wish,
I could have had a friend attend.”
Annie was neither stupid nor blind,
when three faces glanced
and two danced away.
But Father spoke up, addressing his daughter,
Shouting what he had to say,
“You know how stressed,
little Annie gets!
With big days like today!
It’s not all bad! It’s for the best!
I’m myself am very glad!
See how well she has behaved?”
Bobby gave a knowing nod, and threw Annie a glare.
Annie did not respond;
Annie simply stared.
Father made a violent sound;
saved himself from a phlegm cave-in.
Now prepared to roar once more
at an eight-year-old with tremors.
Yet the words were nothing more than whispered.
“Now, Annie, why is your beautiful face so scratched?”
Annie did not respond.
Annie simply stared.
Then tucked her face in her elbow pit,
and swallowed a chunk of tears.
Mommy heard the gagged-up sorrow
and quickly interjected.
“I found steel wool in the bath again,
Annie likes them so.
If I’ve told her once
Then I have a hundred times more,
They remove the filth from the dishes,
but not from little girls.”
Annie says,
“I know.”
Mommy fibs inside again,
a lonely little liar.
Wishes her intervention
was that of heroic martyr,
But mommy interrupted
to save herself from silence.
Because sometimes in the noiseless stillness
mommy feels an echo
it bounces from her spine to sternum.
That’s when she feels the lack of soul.
Hollow, mommy. Hollow.
Mommy held her smile hard,
the silence only wins inside.
Glued-on cheer feels natural,
if you only wear It for a time.
Her sawblade smile stayed
so perfectly monotone;
statuesque.
The echo’s echoing too much,
surely all the others hear?
Mommy croaked a giggle out,
and passed the cake around.
“Eat up! Eat up!
I worked so hard!
I made it perfect!”
There were three plates that did not hold cake,
At least not for very long.
Seemed Annie simply liked the look,
And what a look it was!
Mommy made a masterpiece
To say less is heresy!
Yet, now down two slices of masterpiece,
stubby chubby Bobby’s peace,
was no longer something he could keep.
“My God, how rude!
Annie hasn’t touched her food!”
Father was just behind,
he, too had no peace of mind,
he bellowed out,
“It really is rude!
It’s simply not fair!”
Mommy’s echo broke through the noise,
Mommy stopped responding;
mommy simply stared.
Stubby chubby birthday boy Bobby,
spitting frosting and cake:
“You, ungrateful brat!
Why do you act the way you do?”
Mommy tried to intervene again;
She tried to save the day.
But hollow people make no sound,
they simply waste away.
So, of course, that could only mean,
Annie gets a chance to speak!
Why does she act so disturbingly?
With scratches and tremors,
and a tummy full of swallowed hate?
Annie said,
“I can’t just make believe that Daddy doesn’t **** me.”
