Family Party

Sprawled out on the sofa,
in sparkly jeans.
Faded.
She stubs the cigarette into
a pile of ash.

'Washing up still to do, darling
And the dusting, if you will.
Before your father gets home.'

Do you think I'm an idiot?

Plates clatter,
he runs the tap, and scrubs
greasy lipstick mark off glass.

'Best empty the bin too, dear.
You know how he gets.
It's just a splash dear, don't let on.'

A weak grin, she gulps.
Stagnant perfume hangs
in the air between them.

Do you think I'm an idiot? You stink of it woman!

Smash of glass
He buries black plastic
then does his homework.

'And you couldn't do the tea, for me,
could you? Good boy.
That's him now.'

You stink of it woman! Don't lie to me.

Looking up,
Her orphan eyes,
squeezing his arm.

Don't lie to me, son.

That?
I did it playing football last night, Miss.