Dinnertime
When entering the epicenter that is our kitchen
I immediately sensed the seismic activity
My ears tuned to the argument that was ensuing
the growing magnitude on the Richter scale
the continental drift between my mother and father
It made me turn to follow Denali (the family dog)
who was smart enough to flee
....He knew before me
"Get back here" my father yelled
"where do you think you are going" said my mother
I knew i was walking into a 7
potentially an 8
In a mantra I chanted
minimize damage
minimize damage
minimize damage
So I sat silent at the table
lowering my eyes
hoping not to add to the mounting friction
the electrical unrest
Dinnertime conversation
was always the same ....
who was at fault
who is crossing the line
& I the seismologist
was expected to referee
Their ring of fire
I could tell by the cool crust of my mother
and the hot mantle of my father
that the earth was shifting
and in the silence that ensued...
that hair standing straight on my neck
the eerie calm before the storm
I was not prepared for the flash
of tectonic plates flying across the room
my mothers aim dead on
the cracking of shelves and glass
the splintering of the boards beneath our feet
the aftershock of my father's fury
Me
Quaking
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