Fire

Poem about growing up around and learning about anger...

We cower beneath our bed sheets, palms like vises
Pressed firmly to our temples.
All around us, our father’s voice rises
Rumbling through the still night air
Rattling the wooden rafters above our heads
And crashing like a fist to a bass drum.

These are the nights I remember
Trembling inside my child-like form

We are learning to make fire, my brother and I.