& when
Huge oil portraits of my parents
hung on the dining room walls
as though we lived in a museum and people
paid good money to wander through
only no one ever came
& although
Each night after the maids in white uniforms
passed plates of uninspired food
us four kids sat eyes down
on our silent steaks and potatoes or pushed
the Friday fish around with silver forks
& because
We didn’t want to see those eyes
watching us from the walls, eyes
that could see the lies, saying our mother
made big breakfasts no need to bring
turkey sandwiches to school
& while
My mother licked the butter balls
ignoring her dinner, slurping her scotch
my father in a coat and tie carefully carved his meat
into perfect squares before taking a bite
willing her to sanity
Claire Scott is an award-winning poet who has received multiple Pushcart Prize nominations. Her work has appeared in the Atlanta Review, Bellevue Literary Review, New Ohio Review, and Healing Muse among other journals. Claire is the author of Waiting to be Called and Until I Couldn’t. She is the co-author of Unfolding in Light: A Sisters’ Journey in Photography and Poetry.