The bully stomped in, loud-mouthed
and tossing cherry bombs at the sky,
their flash unmasking thunderheads,
their blasts landing in our room,
I guess to make us wince and fear
what else he’d do, grumbling the way
he did, spittle spraying from his angry
face, eyes flaring and searching
for someone else to scare.
Beneath the bed, my wimpy
sister hid, but not me. I stood at
the window watching the creep push
his way through trees and yards, spewing
brutish threats – and, just like that,
he left, kicking leaves about and spilling
our next-door neighbor’s garbage can.
Little ol’ me could’ve done all that,
so why the fuss? The thing is,
someone only had to hear about
the chance he’d come to close
the schools and hide inside.
(Schools closed – talk about
escaping looming danger!) In hasty
thankfulness, without thinking
through the things I’d rather do,
I ran outside to bag our neighbor’s trash.
By Chris Basher (also writing as P. D. Kline). Pea Soup, p.9. 2024.
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