The Mother of Beatings

“You aren’t going to treat people like this 

Anymore!” the woman bellows inside.

“Pick up your paints, now!” she demands.

A rhythmic beating follows her screaming.

A child endures the blows.  Then, silence

On this open-window, sunny May day.

The world is utterly silenced, flattened 

By this deafening explosion.

Again, we call the police, report this,

Affirm, yes, we believe a child is in danger;

Yes, we believe the parent is hitting

Her, yes, the child is small, has a sibling.

Yes, drugs, alcohol. Screaming. Silence.

“Thank you.” Silence. No end to violence.

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