Listening to grownups quarreling,
standing in the hall against the
wall with my little brother, blown
like leaves against the wall by their
voices, my head like a pingpong ball
between the paddles of their anger:
I knew what it meant
to tremble like a leaf.
Cold with their wrath, I heard
the claws of rain
pounce. Floods
poured through the city,
skies clapped over me,
and I was shaken, shaken
like a mouse
between their jaws.
by Ruth Whitman
courtesy Longwood University
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