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Two Sisters Look Into The Dusty Glass
by Ken Harnisch
Better to disturb the old man sleeping than awaken
The gods. ‘Twas the mantra we’d use to rouse
The wolf from his drunken slumber, dispatched
By a woman more terrified of his hands than
We ever were his voice.
He would come up out of the netherworld of drink
Stumbling and shuffling and remembering not
A whit of the carnage he’d lain upon a household.
He would sometimes grin like a foolish little kid
As if the whole thing had been some bad boyhood
Prank, for which he was sorry, of course, but
His rheumy, rye soaked eyes never wept.
And we’d go on, stoic and surviving, developing
Tactics and ploys to play the game, losing most,
But winning enough to know the taste of
Vengeance and retribution wasn’t near as
Bad as what they told us back in Sunday school.
And of course our little wounded eyes saw it all
The placation, the enabling, the coaxing, the pleading.
We stratified in little hearts forever the wails
Of a woman beaten down, and drank bile every
Sunday when she pulled him into bed to apologize
For being in the way of his flailing fists.
But not to worry. The past is irrelevant. It has no
Bearing on what you are and what you will become.
And just because we shadow box with love
And never got married and hate men and drink
Like he did and stumble from day to day with
No apologies and no regrets doesn’t mean much
In the greater scheme of things.
We never beat anyone to a pulp, after all.
01/27/2012 Author's Note: Sometimes I like to write from the other side of the sexual divide. This one, however, has its basis in fact.
Posted on 01/27/2012
Copyright © 2025 Ken Harnisch
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by George Hoerner on 01/27/12 at 03:55 PM This is well put together Ken and I really enjoyed it. I never saw a heavy drinking side in my family while getting past the ritual of leaving home. It has been a long time since I held the bottle to my lips and tried to drink myself into forgetfulness. It never worked anyway. |
| Posted by Alison McKenzie on 01/27/12 at 09:19 PM Argh, the images evoked for me are so vivid, and soooo much time covered in an economy of few words, and how I am reminded that sometimes, childhoods develop into adulthoods that need so much more untangling than we can figure out. Thank you Ken. |
| Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 01/28/12 at 05:05 AM Really some fine, moving details here - an awful circumstance and its consequences. Thanks for this. |
| Posted by Shannon McEwen on 01/29/12 at 03:08 AM the fact that it's based on fact saddens me but sometimes makes for really good poetry, like here. |
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