Published May 15th, 2025
by Catherine A. MacKenzie
Pa's head falls to the nicked Formica tabletop, still gripping his favourite glass
with the quarter inch of amber tinting the bottom, his chest heaving
in between grunts masquerading as snorty snores,
Sam, my brother, has surrendered, face-down on the dinner plate,
detested-to-him peas cold and mushy beneath his face, his empty milk glass
by his hand,
Ma stands at the sink, alternating between smoke and drink to
gaze out the window to the backyard, glass of wine to her left,
cigarette dangling from her right hand, overflowing ashtray resting nearby,
Pa and Sam are oblivious to each other's plight as Ma seems to be,
The yard is dark, nothing but the Man in the Moon hovering,
shedding smidgens of light upon shadows,
I watch from the corner like Little Jack Horner, too young to see what Mother sees,
I'm not supposed to move, but I squirm for it's been hours since
they banished me here – still, I'm tougher and classier than them
for I'm awake and sober,
I'm the oldest child – must set examples and obey my parents – but
I sneak glances at the breathing souls in the room,
And I'm back in time, remembering:
Pa, who won't make his fiftieth
Ma, who'll outlive Pa by ten
Sam, who won't reach twenty
Puppy under the table, one eye open
That kitchen never held fond memories for me, a sombre room with four walls
smothering the four of us into a family,
I still hear ice cubes clinking in Pa's glass and I taste Ma's
not-particularly-appealing-nor-tasteful meals though we never went hungry and
no one complained,
She did her best – all of us oblivious,
I live longer than them, more years than Puppy who always shared an
overabundance of love and kisses – he was never cornered between walls,
Perhaps Puppy was never oblivious,
The backyard is lonely tonight, lit only sporadically by the moon that shuffles by,
and I long for light and the sun's warmth – for another dawn – but until then I
remember Ma and Pa and Sam, and Puppy too, and I think I finally understand my
mother, who always gazed outside whether into darkness or light,
I wish I weren't so much like her,
I wish the lonely backyard she gazed upon never existed.
About the Poet
Catherine A. MacKenzie resides in Halifax, Nova Scotia, Canada.
Read the poet's biography on Catherine A. MacKenzie's Artist Page.
This poem is included in Poetry World #12,
published in the Wax Poetry and Art Library.
Previously published in Atlantic Canada Poetry Magazine:
Snow Angels
by Catherine A. MacKenzie
Atlantic Canada Poetry Magazine is part of the Wax Poetry and Art Network.
- Visit the main Wax Poetry and Art Submissions Page to see all opportunities.
- Visit the Wax Poetry and Art Library.
- This website and all contents ©Kirk Ramdath and specified artists.
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