(On 'Night Kitchen' by Siani Rhys James
in M.O.M.A., Y Tabernacl, Machynlleth, Wales.)
She forces him to wear red though she knows
all the other boys wear beige or grey.
Now in the kitchen, the window turns black.
She skins, slices, peels, pummels and thumps.
He holds down his home-work as the table lists
and plates and glasses teeter and slide to the edge.
Cups jump on the dresser. Cutlery clatters.
Blades of light glint on pots and saucepans
as they fly through the air and assault the fridge.
She steers the vermilion casserole into the rayburn
and turns half-listening to the radio's crackle.
As the cracked egg slips off the rim into the bowl
she sees her brush poised with cadmium yellow
above the canvas left behind in her studio.
(Published in 'The LIe of the Land' anthology (Cinnamon Press, May 2006)