Emma Lee – She’s given up fixing the broken window pane

We almost got around after Christmas Dinner how lucky we are to live in undrunken, unviolent families, and that the worst matter this year is Damian’s present from me still not arriving from the catalogue folks – it will become a New Year gift.
I like this poignant and too accurate for some poem by Emma Lee.

The Stare's Nest

She’s given up fixing the broken window pane

Instead she gets her three children to paint

the board covering it,

their chatter mingles with chart music

as she smokes in the yard, door open

so she can still watch them,

before the evening ritual of bath and bed

in clean linen and a story from

the youngest’s father, willing to adopt

the two that weren’t his.

Then she’ll close the curtains over the broken pane

and drift into the back room and TV,

which still won’t drown out

the eldest father’s drunken melody

as he arrives, demanding to see his son.

She tosses a coin: does she open the door

to a torrent of swearing and try and calm him

or does she phone the police, again?

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