Fighting
watchful eyes
they wait
one-two-three on the couch
eyes on me
dirty hands and feet
tear stained faces
one brother leaning on the other
thats enough
my mother-voice says
for one day
aren't you sorry at all?
They look down then up
but God bless them
they dont grin
they are tired now
too tired to fight any more
even with me
the big one
fixes his brother's ice pack
and they wait for their sentence:
bath and bed
I'll hold them here a minute
just so I can remember
these
faces.
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