He is perfect after all?
His flaws, manifest on his wife
Scrubbing them from her skin
Picking his hatred off his children
Chewing them like cured beef
Fucking mongrels that they are
Spat out onto the pyres
What good are they?
Their soot and their mother’s fatless corpse
Polish to his boots
But then he snaps his fingers
All has to be suddenly well
He is suddenly the perfect man
She is suddenly the perfect wife
-the children, sparkly toothy things
smiling with hollow eyes
There is much to prepare
The guests can’t see the house like this
The don’s wife has to clean up quickly
Wipe the blood from her face
Powders over the bruises
Hush the children up
The priests are coming
A feast has to be prepared
Creases ironed
The don dresses in his best
His wife sweeps herself under the carpet
You can hardly see the children’s toes
Where they stick out under the drapes
The house is clean
The family smiles
Their lines rehearsed
The court is in session
The elite have arrived
The don’s wife a ghost of hospitality
All done
All prepared
Ready
Presentable
Used up and empty
Silver the children starved for
Bone porcelain made from the wife
her teeth, her skull
The food carved from their smiling carcasses
As they stand there
The charade heaped on them
The don elated
Drunk and sloshing about
Preening over his perfect world
Gloating over his perfect family
Don't they smile broadly?
Aren't they articulate?
Aren't they witty?
The priests are happy
Such a lovely evening
What a traditional family
Who would want to ruin this?
-o0o-
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