Still Life, With Family

A pear of candlelight

wagging on the mantelpiece,

the baby chewing the chewable end of a watergun,

drips from our son’s last water fight

mouthing rain’s sibilations.

You trying to fix my computer,

surfacing every now and then

with considered diagnoses,

our other daughters eating pancakes,

a nothingness on the TV. No one is shouting,

no thundercloud of cigarette smoke,

no threat of anyone bleeding

or being bruised. No one will take their life

in their daughter’s bed.