The repetition hurts As evening comes, the storm breaks once, twice and again. And the rain comes down and the rain comes down. The roof is leaking, unfixed for years because they tell me I shouldn't. Sewage is entering the cellar walls, the floor getting wetter, the walls blacker, with mould. As evening comes, mother drinks once, twice and again, raving, yelling, cursing men and father locks his study door while I entreat her: please calm down, once, twice and again. As evening comes, grandfather comes once, twice and again. That funny jester-terrorist, opens his zipper, shows me his, shoots his shot to wet my face, once, twice and again. As morning comes, grandmother smiles once, twice and again. She says: You're only imagining things. Says: the child is in his egotist phase, spiteful crazy little squaller, selfish and spoilt by his stupid parents. 2010-03-26 German version: Die Wiederholung tut weh |
© Anthony Thwaites