Hermit

Hermit
Stairway to Heaven

Friday, October 24, 2008

The White Plate

"Does Daddy kiss you like 
he kisses me?"

The question 

exploded
as my bare toes
wiggled on
red linoleum.

Watching her
stop washing
that dish,
I wished
I coulda shoved
my stupid
stupid words
back
into my
stupid little 

lips
the moment
I said them.

I bit my mouth
till it bled 

salt
against my 

tongue.

The white plate
slipped from
her rubber 

fingers.

I watched it fall
like those
instant replays on 

football
slowly
deliberately
almost
suspended in time
till its milky face
smashed 

the floor
and 

shattered.

I heard
her loud steps
towards the 

living room
and her slaps
and curses
assailing my 

father.

But all I could see
was that
white plate
and
all I could 

feel
was like
I
should be
the one
picking up 

the pieces
before
someone got 

hurt.

Copyright © 2008 Querus Abuttu

2 comments:

RNSANE said...

This is amazing....I think I have heard these words uttered from children I have seen at CASARC in the past - if not these very words, than others in the same vein.

Carmen

Gina Greenway said...

I'm sitting here at my computer wiping tears out of my eyes. How do you create something so evocative and moving out of such a chaotic life? I look at the woman you are now - the way you talk to your kids and the way they talk to you - and it's easy to imagine your childhood like something out of a Norman Rockwell painting. It sounds "off" to say I love this poem - but you know what I mean when I do. Amazing - both the poem and the poetess.