Researching the Madness
The lines go back far they do
lines drawn on a map
from somewhere in Pennsylvania
via Antwerp and Brussels.
The little girl grew into an iron-fisted
Matriarch who rang the bell at five
to feed her boys the holiest of bread
while reciting hymnals of fear and guilt.
Her shepherdless husband
followed her trail to Illinois
to a sleepy town her brother first discovered
years before boarding SS Vaderland.
It was there tempers raged within
from the ethnically charged populous
but she managed self-restraint
and seldom raised her hand
against her own Motherland.
But for her brother the chains broke
and wickedness unleashed itself
on Christmas Day
as the quietness of the neighborhood
exploded with a single shot of insanity.
That dying branch still hangs crooked
on the corner of Rose and Lexington
its venomous DNA lingering
inside a sleepy little child.
february two thousand thirteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved