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Poetry By: dadio


Submitted:Aug 6, 2008    Reads: 155    Comments: 4    Likes: 4   

Even on a good day,
She was on edge, in case
A storm blew up, and he
Changed mood, his whole darned face

Altering in colour
And feature, the day'd spoilt,
And the kids going quiet
And finding some shelter.

Even on a good day,
She was so uneasy,
In case the kids were too
Loud or they didn't say

Hello or the food was
Too hot or too cold, or
His beer was sickly warm
Or the ballgame went bad

And his team lost, much to
Her cost, unknown to those
Ball guys who ought to have
Played better. Even on

A good day, she perspired,
Waiting in the stage wings
For the sick show to start,
For the actor to foul

Up his lines, to act out
The sad scenes in the same
Old way with the same sad
Sour endings. Even

On a good day, she'd bite
Her cheek, wondering what
Might set it off, maybe
The wind touched his thinning

Hair or the kids laughed too
Much, or not at all, or
His jealousy opened
Up, because some guy smiled

At her or looked at her
Too long, and he'd get that
Green streak blowing out wide
And she knew they'd all hide,

And she, knowing what
Was coming, would sigh deep,
Feeling a storm blowing
Through her mind, bones and skin.


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