Inspired by Daughter’s “Youth”:
You spoke, mouth down-turned –
so angry, so childishly hurt.
I, in turn, restraint showed none –
must have been the pout, protruding
familiar lip of shadowed jawline –
and so a verbal onslaught in return,
more wounding than had been intent of mine.
Why do we do this
to each other, again, time after time?
Why must we do this
each to each, discontent without a brawl?
Days go by in white flag mode, smiles
pasted to faces in simulation of –
what? societal norm? –
A feather of peace tickles cheek to cheek,
lips brushing lips with tang of olive branch:
sweet morning breath shared, cherished
for later we know shall be
tinged, warning bitter acid of fermented grape.
A quip to start, shade of criticism heard,
mouths snap and snarl like wolves,
animals sharing a bedroom den –
competing to survive other side the walls.
Bestial life expended
in battle and forgiveness.
And how shall we go on?
[Copyright N R Nolan © 2015]