Weapons of Small Destruction
You used to come home from school
grab two-handfuls of wooden building blocks
and take one brooding look at the Lego cities
I’d carefully constructed.
Then, with a bit of spit starting on your mouth
you’d begin to hurl
making bombing noises and dancing
your eyes shining hysterically.
I’d scream for Mum to come stop you
but she with her dusty apron and hair in a bun
tired from polishing floors or scouring the oven
could only muster a shrill, “Stop that!” before
returning to her Watkins cleaning products.
You’d smirk and circle slowly while
crushing my teddy, I’d slink to the corner
and watch until, bored,
you’d turn to me and say, “better clean up your mess”
before walking away to find our mother
quietly rifling through recipes.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
written in a "one-off" flow of recollection, April 11, 2011
~Soulfire~
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