Thunderstorm

I.

Lightning cracks
and thunder rumbles.
Mom and Dad
are at it again.

The fights have raged
like silent thunderstorms.
Words they think we don't hear,
behind closed doors.


II.

Mom sports a new bruise.
We all avoid Dad,
he's in another killing mood.
No one eats, we just go to school.

A private storm
goes on at home.
It shadows us,
clouds over our day.

III.

I get home,
and flee to my room.
Mom is gone,
and Dad is waiting.

All I can do
is cower beneath his blows,
and wonder what to tell my friends,
the next day at school.

IV.

Dad went to far,
the other night.
I guess Mom won't have
another fight.

I don't live at home.
Not anymore.
The silent storm is passing,
after sitting at my front door.