Poetry

Nobody is saying anything at the
dinner table tonight,
because everyone is too angry.
The only noise is the clinking of
fine silver on bone china and
the sound of other people’s children
playing outside
but this will give you poetry.

There is no knife in the kitchen sharp
enough to cut the tension
and your grandmother’s hands are
shaking.
The meat and yam stick in your
throat
and you do not dare even to whisper,
please pass the salt,
but this will give you poetry.

Your father is breathing out of his
mouth
he is set to beat the spark out of you
tonight
for reasons he isn’t even sure of
himself yet.
You will come away bruised.
You will come away bruised
but this will give you poetry.

The bruising will shatter.
The bruising will shatter into
black diamond.
No one will sit beside you in class.
Maybe your life will work.
Most likely it won’t at first
but that
will give you poetry.