(1948 / OVER 400 POEMS SERVED! !)

Greek Drama

Their bedroom lay in perfect symmetry,
A mythic stage. The double bed was flanked
on each side by a dresser, lamp and closet.
She'd spout her lines from her side, he from his.

Some trivial thing seemed always to begin it:
'How can you wear that jacket with those pants? ' —
Or, 'Can't you wear your hair all the way back? '
(His mother wore her hair all the way back.)

Annoyance soon gave way to full-blown rage.
Backing toward her closet as she shouted,
She opened it one day, for ammunition,
And started hurling purses from the shelf.

Clear, hard-plastic scored a direct hit
Upon his forehead. Down he fell, and lay
Like a crashed airplane in a lonely field.
I stood above his body. Was he dead?
Soon, though, he woke, stood up, and went to work.

That night, we all had mom's pot roast for supper.
Not a word about the morning's 'little tiff'.

by Max Reif

Comments (7)

Max I enjoyed reading this piece, well-written with great visual and I wanted to know more about it. Bravo! !
Hi Max - I love that line about the crashed aeroplane - really sums up the devastion caused by rows. Nice one.
I rewrote this in iambic pentameter today, July 15. I wonder, if anyone happens by again, what you think?
After rereading it, I have to agree with Linda. avr
This little 'Greek drama' plays out well. I read through several times and decided I like the switch from third person to first. It gives more drama and the ending...pot roast...brings it back to reality. Raynette
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