A Drought Ended

 

He would throw her 

                   across the room. 

Some men make sport of such things.

 

I was warned to see and blind.

 

Still, I watched through the window

how her children, forced into a ritual

dandy shandy, dodged their wailing mother.

 

The day she heaved the pot from the stove,

 

a drought ended in Pell River.

 

Colin             a cumulus of steam              screamed.

 

 

Behind the bamboo fence

         I joined neighbours

who had secretly danced for rain.

 

Serve him right, they said,

injustice don’t sleep long like death.