“Pass the butter,” said the mister,
Two seats down the twisted board.
“How was work, dearest mother? How lovely you all returned.”
The woman sat still, feeling no fable heard.
Not at the table is a lovely sister?
Empty is the chair where the girl was adored.
In a quiet mist lay a baby unwilling to exist,
So innocent and bored.
“Calm yourself,” said the mister.
“Solitude, my love, is a gift you once tampered with.”
Mother laughs without moving,
Brother eats without chewing.
Mister cries, “Pass the butter.”
Grandma’s still, grandpa’s utter.
“Pass the butter,” mister shouts,
Ripping at his wife’s blouse.
Off flies the arm sewn on so tight,
A family of dolls, skin so white.
Mister knows, mister sews, mister chopped all the bone,
For this is far better than being alone.
Laughs the mister to himself,
While buttering his golden loaf.
June Fearing is a 14 year old military brat who lives in a military base in Germany and who writes poems in her free time.
