Elephant In The Room

‘What time do you call this?!?’

 

You’re so angry it’s almost comical

Standing there with your hands on your hips

You almost look like a real mother

 

‘I asked you a question.’

 

You’re using a stern voice

But the effect is ruined by your slur

And by the smell of your breath

 

‘Where have you been? Answer me.’

 

As if you have any right

To demand anything from me

Any right to shout at me

 

You’re taking another swig from the bottle now

Glaring over at the man whose name

Is written on my birth certificate

 

I stopped calling him dad a long time ago

I rarely bother even talking to him anymore

It’s not as if I have anything to say

 

‘Simon. She’s your daughter too.’

 

He looks as if he has forgotten

His bloodshot eyes dart to my face

And I can see his mild surprise

 

He probably thought I was still a child

A small creature to be ignored

And bullied

 

To be kicked and punched

When the booze ran out

And he was too pissed to find any more

 

‘Oi. You heard your mother.’

 

I know why he doesn’t say my name

In one of his drink-induced comas

It seems to have slipped his mind

 

He has no idea what you’re talking about either

That’s why he doesn’t use specifics

Just the few words that fit every situation

 

‘For god’s sake girl!’

 

You’re really losing it now

But why should I care

You won’t even remember me come morning

 

‘You’re not getting away with this.

This is serious.’

 

And suddenly I find myself smiling

Albeit a twisted humourless smile

 

‘Mother.’

 

My voice is flat

The word dead

And you actually flinch

 

‘There’s an elephant in the room.’

Reviews

[Encore]

Hmm. I like it. It doesn't flow quite like a poem, but instead like a story.

"You almost look like a real mother"/"Glaring over at the man whose name Is written on my birth certificate"

Your tone indicates a serious hate toward your family. I can almost feel the venom!

Nevertheless, great job.