Beyond...Nothing	Home- Poetry
Beyond The Fear There Is Nothing A silky bag is clutched in pale, clammy hands. No one notices her in the darkened doorway. Somewhere she hears a creak, a sigh, a hiss, The groan of gears, the bleeping of monitors, The whispering music of death. Fingers of smoke reach toward a watermarked ceiling. Playing cards slide across the slick surface of the table. Small puddles gather beneath glasses. The players are silent, Their game is sluggish. Do they strain to hear something? Are they waiting for some signal? All this she wonders. “Momma, put that out.” “Child, don’t tell me what to do.” “That can’t be good for Mona.” “She’s in the next room.” “But-.” “Don’t argue.” Silence, end of argument. Another reaching stream of smoke. The cigarette meets a savage end in the glass ashtray. “You’re tearing this family apart.” “Not right now, Child.” “You are so angry you can’t see past the anger. Mona needs you, this family needs you.” “Leave it well enough alone.” “It’s about time-.” “It’s not your place.” “Then whose?” Silence again, thick and oppressive, As gray as the smoke hovering in the air. Mother and daughter stare glassy eyed at cards. In the next room a hacking cough begins. The ashtray is swept from the table, Smashes, splinters, slides across the flower-patterned floor. A harsh dry sob, the scrape of a chair. The silent witness withdraws, Unnoticed still. There is nothing left of the shattered family Beyond the Fear.
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