Dinner with the In-Laws

I look at Jeannie doing right,
Then at the clock. The night
Is young. Her mother can't
Be satisfied; you know, that
Mother-daughter thing. “Oh,
Look. There's something on
This glass. The meat is cold.
The TV's dusty.” Jeannie's
Father sits in silence, reading;
Really, all he does. Her sister
Chatters mindlessly. The
Food is good. It is; I swear.
Her mother's wrong to say
It's not, and, I, at once,
Relaxed and roused by two
Stiff whiskeys, want to say,
You're such a bunch of losers.
Leave!, but Jeannie would be
Mortified. She asked them
Here (and hoped for better),
Bent on doing right.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 34 times
Written on 2013-11-16 at 00:32

dott Save as a bookmark (requires login)
dott Write a comment (requires login)
dott Send as email (requires login)
dott Print text