I know now
That you live inside me.
That you’re mean.
I know that
You curse my children
On a specific trigger
From a vacuum.
The trigger sparks
Like the woman from Bank Street who told you she only works
Is not speaking to parents.
Or the psychologist at High School
“We’re back where we started with Sherry…
Her knapsack again. Unorganized again.”
You take over…
Like an animal
“They failed us. They failed our child.
They have small minds.
Do they say one word about her drawings?
Do they say one word about her paintings?
Do they say one word about her interpretation of the Greek Myths?
No. The pencil isn’t sharpened.
I bark. But it’s you barking.
You, in truth, are the boss.
I smile sheepishly when you bark at my husband.
And I smile sheepishly when you bark at my children.
And the sad truth is I smile when you
Bark at me.