Today's poem is by John Coleman Bennett

Overture to Boy about to Walk in on Parents
       

So far, it's been relatively quiet
around life—the marching band
in step with rhythm and street signs
like hieroglyphic orders for another
civilization. You could ignore etiquette
forever, you admit, if it hadn't been
demanded by others. And you will,
one final time, today.

Today, the kitchen's harmless knick-
knacks mock like Draconian relics,
so you line them on the window sill
and, one-by-one, lay them off
from the factory in your mind.

Like Father—like some—whose severance
has satisfied laziness and won
an audience of your mother.
The two keep away for weeks
in their bedroom until high afternoon.

If it pleases, I'll remember you
instead for some gumption—for your poise
and patience with the corrupt—not the act
of turning the knob (knot the apple), pulled
thoughtless, but a branch that settles easily
back in place, a bit lighter.

Copyright © 2025 John Coleman Bennett All rights reserved
from Kestrel
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission