Hell in

I broke a jar
she cut her hand
her skin so thin
those many years ago

and many years before
she spent her time in line
with chattering children
the echoes of odorous food
in commotion of feeding the masses
within four cafeteria walls

and then, when her work
was done, she didn't escape
the chatter of children
for I imposed upon her
and retired her rest

she had cartoons on
the basement television
while she microwaved
or whipped together a sandwich
for lunch, it wasn't much

a loud scream, abrupt banshee
sounded each time
she found me behind her
or simply coming up the stairs

frazzled the nerves
that shone from her tired eyes
and coiled out in the curls of her hair

thus the times she spontaneously
broke out in barks and whimpers
as though a dog waiting at the door
she got away with such behavior

for hell she might have been born into
a hell she may have lived in
she was a hell in