Family Dinner
A young girl, a daughter,
sits with her head in her hands
on the cold bathroom floor again
where she can quietly be
tucked away and cradled in the corner.
A woman, a wife and a mother,
goes out to the store and comes home
with tiny limes, with Pepsi soda, with english muffins,
with all the ingredients for a home cooked meal
taken from the page in a yellowed family cookbook.
A man, a husband and a father,
moves through the house like a brewing storm.
He didn’t bother to shave that morning
and hasn’t bothered to turn down the tv.
His voice tears through the walls like gunshots.
The woman and the young girl sit beside him
and they all pray over their dinner,
pretending that being grateful for the chicken
will be enough for the night
to make them a family.