Meet the Folks

I wished I'd warned her 

things were far from normal. 



On arrival -

Curtains drawn. Bad sign. 

'Mother... ?

Answer - silence!



'Son?' 

'Father!'

Our formal handshake 

left this girl, as others, baffled.

Not enough of the stuff of love

in our house.



Still, she kept her cool

as Mother wept; a clatter

of bones in the corner couch -

a dangerous heap that screeched 

when I peeled a drape. 

'Leave it!' it shouted - (the heap)

'They're out there!'



'Who's out there, Mother,' -

'The Devil', it babbled, 'and all

of his demons.

Shut the curtains -



I can't bear the light!' It flinched 

and recoiled - arm thrown back, 

theatrical -

called for The Mother of God, 

who was away at Church. 

Sunday.



Lunch was cold.

I watched the girl; meticulous;

chewing on rollmops - I later

found out she hated, and meat

swallowed down with water 

and Mother's evils - pinned, 

as she was, to the wall by the needles 

of eyes made just for a son - the only

one - seen to be stolen.



I wished I had warned her

things were not normal.

Guess I was hoping they would be - 

for once.



We stayed. We ate our lunch and left,

and all was well... Except 

for Mother.



And Father.



And me, if I'm honest. 



I shook my father's hand

a firm goodbye at the door, 

and swore I heard The Devil 

chuckle from behind the curtains...

But his name wasn't Satan,

it was Schizophrenia.