SOAP OPERA HEAT


He buffs and polishes my nails

White mask held tight around his ears

as his vigor sends white powder flying

In a cloud of  dust around our heads

The drone of betrayal and anger

splays itself on to  the wide screen Tv

Held high against the back wall  

The soap opera marches into his fingers

as he sands and buffs my nails

 

Muffled comments emanate from behind

The swath of white cover over his mouth

I can feel his heat rise on the bed of my nails

“I hate those shows.  I hate how they treat each other.”

I imagine his lips taunts in the hiss of the words

behind that mask that denies toxic inhalation

He exhales the toxic conversation coming

In his ears from the wide screen Tv

He gives the burn of it to my nails

 

I give and ‘Ouch’ and a twitch

“It’s evil.”  he says  “Family should never

treat each other like that. It’s evil”

His eyes never meet mine in this intimate

Space we share in the buzz and buff

of my nails in the heat of his anger

And the septic conversation rolling

over us from the wide screen TV

I give agreement to his sentiment

It is an Opera that no amount of soap

will ever clean the toxic dump of it

from a man that honors and holds

his family in the tender truth of his love

 

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