Torrential clouds of grey trouble bubble overhead
as we sit unified around papa’s mahogany table.
Hand in hand we give thanks and say grace
while projected smiles create our little family fable.
We haven’t yet had dinner, but a roast is coming.
We wait in eager anticipation as the fire flickers
and with each passing moment a blazing anger amounts
until father takes a swig of jack and sputters an inebriated curse.
The volcanic tension erupts as mother barks
and sister whimpers for it all to stop!
but it wont, and it can’t, and her bark is now a roar.
Suddenly there’s a pop! Father’s hit the floor.
His lifeless thud reverberates around the room.
The body of what was once a man lies sleepily on the carpet.
Evidently, family dinners are nothing but doom.
Andrew Savory has been a Blueprint staff writer since 2011.