"She's looking at me,"
"He's taking too much space."
"Make him stop!"
"Put her in the time out chair!"
Every syllable floating into the kitchen
Is a tiny scalpel sticking
Into my back, neck, and shoulders.
The phantom taste of gin and tonic
Taunts the back of my throat;
If I go near them I will kill them,
Instead I find solace in singing
"Sweet Transvestite" in a whisper
While seeing in my head
My demon spawn served
As dessert after the meatloaf
In a camp horror classic.
I laugh, we all live
Through another Monday night.
Tomorrow when they start up
I will put on garden gloves
And tear out their absent daddy's hydrangea
Instead of my hair.
"Play" by Joe
Mary Jane Tenerelli is a poet, freelance writer and single
mother of two small children residing on the North Shore of Long Island.
Her work has appeared in a number of on-line journals, including ZuZu's
Petals. Her poetry also appears in the Summer, 2001 print magazine The
E-mail Mary Jane Tenerelli at