Spite and Bitter

I know you, you bastard

I thought I left you far behind, but there you stand

your green and black, tar-paper shingles

a sickening patchwork on your roof and sides

Your broken windows covered with dirty cardboard

and your rotting porch, as usual,

littered with dirty rags, broken toys and trash

And there, in the corner, the old broken down Frigidaire -

“We'll get another year out of it yet, all's it needs is a new . . .”

And where are the children? Ah, there they are

the snotty-nosed kids with their tangled hair

playing with some other child's trash toys

running through the backyard junk,

bare feet navigating broken glass and rusty nails

constantly tugging up their oversized underwear, soiled and grimy

Hunger – isn't it funny that I knew the meaning long before I knew the word!

And cold, terrible cold!

I see the cats still hang on – how fast they multiply!

Don't fear though,

they never live long enough to be more than kittens

if the distemper, or the truck tires didn't kill them

starvation would

though God knows there were enough rats and mice

and whatever else you decided should take up residence

Oh, how you held me so tightly in your cruel grip

torture seemed pleasure compared to life with you

and when I escaped – I vowed you'd never posses me again

Yes, I remember you as I stand here

drawn, yet repulsed by you

But it's different now

your hold is only temporary – a memory

and when it passes, I can go

and I will always go

with my mouth filled with the bitter taste of spite

the rancid, sour taste of spite and bitter gall