His eyes, tender moons
softly shimmering
after sneering lips
exploded volcanic rage
poisoning our home.
Mother alone with him
deformed into a wooden
chair by the contorted
anvil of our father's fears.
I'm watching his every
move from the end
of an empty hall;
my brother and two
small sisters
cower behind my trembling
back while in vain
police are called
to stop him
in his twisted tracks.
Tomorrow,
I'll wake early
from nightmarish
sleep, careen up
blocks of jagged lava
to Paricutin's peak,
then descend
onto the crater's
smoldering floor
under new moon's
steadfast gaze.
Home....
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