Tainted Memories Poem by Rashida Mack

Popping bacon grease in a pan,
it was Sunday,
mom, step dad and I seated at the table,
sis pushed back her chair,
not feeling too well,
hazy smoke lingered in the air.

A thud from the bathroom,
his yell to you met with silence,
he got from the table,
to the closed door,
yelled once more,
knocked,
then opened the door,
fainted,
there you lay,
A heap of powder blue cloth,
faucet running,
he picked you up as you slowly came to,
with heavy lids,
“I’m okay, I’m okay.”
You went to your room,
mom and I looked at each other
frightened,
as he, she and I
returned to our feast of unhatched eggs and slaughtered pig.

*www.Goldenphant.com