Flow Week

My dad throws a plate at the breakfast room wall,

 

As he throws it he adds on his life, marriage, and family,

It shatters into smaller images of himself,

And the sound it makes is nothing short of deafening,

Yet compared to his cussing it lacks the initial impact,

 

the whites of his eyes turn red and grotesque,

As the vein in his forehead bulges out,

 

I can see throbbing, as if his heart can't pump enough anger,

Into his eyes,

 

They cloud over and I know to call them 'Judgment',

As he tells my mother to get the fuck out of our house,

 

My mom is stunned,

Statuesque in the way her body holds for 10 minutes,

A work of art called 'When Mom Breaks' by Dadiangelo,

She bends over and picks up each piece of porcelain carefully,

 

Lays them out on a paper towel,

And discards them in the trash bin where they belong,

Slowly, she begins to cry,

 

She weeps for the 20 years she's lived under his reign,

Yet does not let out a noise,

If she does she would ask him to take her back,

 

Her sobs ring in my ears,

Four rooms away,

And draws each breath from her children,

Four hours away,

Drawing her strength to just go.

This poem is about: 
Me
My family

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