If Mother Had A Gun

If Mother had a gun, she’d gun Father down,
She’d aim for his lungs, it’d make a deafening sound,
She’d smoke out his secrets then just pull the damn trigger,
Then she’d stare in astonishment and still pull the ring off her finger,

If Mother had no children, she’d choke him until he couldn’t breathe,
For all the nights she came home, tired, exasperated, crying herself to sleep,
I know this because I listen to the crack under her bedroom door,
While Father is downstairs watching reruns in a sea of pending chores,

If Mother had a conscience, she’d tie him down to the couch,
The same one he slouches on, complaining to her that there’s no food in his mouth,
We all cower in our bedrooms when the decibel wars start waking neighbors up,
And Father’s hands start doing things which make her beg for him to stop,

If Mother had more strength than Father, she’d beat him to death,
She’d pound off that smirk he wears whenever he sees her trying to recompose herself,
When his friends come over, her smile is cracked, her eyes scream for release,
He paints a picture of pity for them to lap up while she listens through gritted teeth,

If Mother had the stomach, she’d poison all his meals,
The ones she’s forced to make when she comes home from earning bread, I know she feels,
Like the wedding photograph with them smiling in it swells her up with much regret,
Back when he first slammed her frame against the floor, she should have left,

If Mother had a gun, she’d gun Father down,
She’d set in her jaw, then hear him cry out,
For mercy, begging like the pathetic creature he really is,
If Mother had a gun, she’d finally find herself some peace.

If Mother Had A Gun

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© Hazim Haemoglobin

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If Mother Had A Gun


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