Poem: The Table is Set

 

I wrote this many years ago whilst studying my MA at Aberystwyth University. Let me know what you think of it…

 

The Table is Set

 

I can just see over the top-

knives, forks, spoons.

(I remember seeing a mop.)

 

I can smell Mom’s gravy.

Six places of on her bright white cloth,

but the froth is about to boil.

 

It always starts before dinner,

The atmosphere growing thinner.

 

Hyde bubbles up from her toes,

I know.

She knows.

I know she knows.

 

‘Dinner’s ready!’

I wait until his children are seated-

I need my mother, my only friend; undefeated.

 

Then it begins-

Don’t think I manage one bite,

but I taste the fear.

 

The fresh table thrown to the sky,

crushed vegetables sprayed the wall-

I saw it all.

I saw it all.

 

My… our Dad…

He’s red and angry.. and perhaps a little scared?

They both move fast,

through the vast expanse of trampled food.

 

Pinned to the confused floor,

forgotten pills a poor excuse.

Her eyes roll back,

tongue safely to one side…

 

And all I can think is,

I wish she had died…

I wish she had died.