Stacey
All the lights are off
but they don’t fool me
because I can feel their
baited breath.
I know they’re awake,
lying still in bed,
thinking to catch me
drunk or stoned
Even though they won’t
call me or come out
because they’d rather
keep silent
And pretend, like with
my sister, never
facing her head-on
like parents
In movies do:
yelling and screaming,
demanding answers
from their kids
Instead of hiding
their heads in the sheets
like they’re afraid of
what they’ll see.
What would happen if
I banged and crashed and
stamped my way upstairs
like thunder,
Noises they couldn’t
ignore or pretend
away, forcing them
to emerge
And smell my beer-breath,
see my blood-shot eyes
and deal with me once
and for all?
They might be surprised
by how willing I am
to put myself
in their hands.