Diana Darby ** "I V" ** Intravenous

Why I Write

There is a better way to do it
than the way they did it
with all the yelling and screaming
and insanity.
It didn’t have to be like that.
Eruptions and explosions,
the calm,
the Ben-gay,
the Valium
passed out to hands like communion.
I think of them now,
locked in that house
of dog hair and filth,
the t.v. blaring,
Gigi,
the daily struggle for control
over trash duties,
toilet seats,
and dishes,
the chaos of dysfunction
screaming
for attention,
lost on three sets of ears
who can not hear their own voices
much less anyone else’s.
No wonder I sat in the backseat and stared out the window
silent.
No wonder I write.
There was never room
for one more voice.
There still isn't.