When your sister
drops your hand
and reaches for the other
the one who threw spitballs
and ate your lunch
When she says
you may be exaggerating
be kind, be fair
And you know
that “doing the right thing”
will surely slip the noose
around your neck
to whom do you turn?

Your mother is in the room
She mends the socks
the same as yesterday
and the day before that
and she looks up
and she says, yes, be fair
listen to your sister
and you swallow the sword
because to not is not being kind


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Categories: Poetry

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