She opens the door and steps inside.
The tainted air seethes,
its teeth still gnashing.
Flinty sparks of syllables whirl
through an aftermath of fireworks
that seeps into her bones.
Some nights are strategic airstrikes.
Each parent bombards the other
with a blaze of semantically
driven soul missiles that
they think she never hears.
Meanness lingers.
They teach her that.
She tiptoes out the door,
then bolts before anyone notices
that she ever came home.
Brenda Warren 2012
This is my response to a writing challenge at Trifecta, which is to use the third definition of fireworks in a piece between 33 and 333 words in length.
fireworks
1: a device for producing a striking display by the combustion of explosive or flammable compositions
2: plural a display of fireworks
3: plural
a : display of temper or intense conflict
b : a spectacular display
undercaws 
Love this: “semantically
driven soul missiles”
And the final stanza:
“She tiptoes out the door,
then bolts before anyone notices
that she ever came home.”
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I loved the way you made the emotional fireworks come alive as real fireworks with teeth gnashing. Really strong imagery. Thanks for playing along with us again. Hope to see you back tomorrow for the new challenge.
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very good Brenda. A sad, but probably all to common situation. great use of the prompt, metaphor and personficatoin.
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Brenda! it sure is sad to see how domestic problems affect a child’s mind. I love the last stanza!
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Brenda, this is a superb poem. The powerful use of metaphor makes the meaning crystal clear.
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My parents fought like that. It was awful. And I, being me, was Right. In. The. Middle. Of. It. I could rip people verbally before I was six. It’s a useful skill, but not one I needed so young.
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Airstrikes a home…completely devastating. Can’t imagine this child’s life. Well told.
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*at home
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‘teeth still gnashing’ ‘seeps into her bones’, the first stanza really grabbed me. and the arguments being like air strikes was a very unique, yet appropriate comparison.
the last line of the second stanza ‘they teach her that’, a true misfortune. sometimes, a child is better to have separated parents rather than live in such a hazardous environment.
great write!
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Poor child. My heart goes out to the kiddo.
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Really well done. I liked the phrase “strategic airstrikes” — it reminds me of those nights when my own parents would argue and try not to let us hear.
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WOW was my first reaction Brenda and then I saw that others too had this reaction.
How hard it must be for a child caught in a war zone aka home. Thank you. 😛
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I can relate to this – especially like “semantically driven soul missiles.” I remember overhearing unfair fights as a child…and they always thought we were sleeping!
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Wow, doesn’t begin to cover it. “a blaze of semantically driven soul missiles” is as perfect a word coupling as some of Dr Seuss’ rhymes. I love it. It tears me up inside.
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Wow, Brenda, at first I thought this was about a child of a warring country – but the reality is just as bad. When home is a war zone, children are always collateral damage, right? Wonderfully expressed, and actually quite like my growing up. So it sent a shiver. Peace, Amy
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