Untitled

we walked in,
the goddess girl with us,
mother stood alone,
sisters at the door.
only brother stares,
up ahead at the wall,
dreams still flowing
in the mind i can read.
the goddess loves the house,
but he is still ashamed
of the rags we live in
instead of riches.
we play a game,
a fantasy game of
our lives as we imagined
them to be when we
were young,
when we could live in
castles of fancy.
mother came in,
said the goddess had to go,
we had to help with dinner.
father comes in,
the smell is in the air—
oh no, the smell!
dinner on the floor,
gravy like blood
on the stove,
burnt like dreams
and hopes of ours,
wasted away for life.
the smell is in my face now,
along with the gun—
oh no, the gun!
no gun, please, no,
no one listens.
mother tries to help,
but gets
the bullet of anger.
sisters cry,
brother looks ready to leap
upon the man,
who is not our father now,
who has become a stranger,
when he turns.
the gun points
from brother to me
from me to brother
and finally rests on me.
i cry,
sisters cry,
brother yells and jumps
in the way of the gun,
the bullet and falls.
father knows now,
knows there is no way out,
knows he is doomed,
so he leaves the world,
leaving sisters and i
and brother on the floor,
bleeding to death—
oh no, brother!
stay with me,
we need you now.