Remember the wicker laundry basket
that held the newborn baby
And the father who went for orange juice

Remember the baby who
became two and then three years old
And the father wanted clean socks
         And the mother was washing dishes

There were no clean socks
but perhaps a not-too-dirty pair
could be found in the laundry basket
         Now a laundry basket, not a baby bed

         And remember the gun
         lying in the top drawer

How he took that gun
and shot up the laundry basket
Emptied the clip
         Into all those dirty clothes
         Shot them silly

The mother how she just kept washing dishes
And the older sister
stood witness like the moon
         Not a word spoken
         Silent, silent
Nothing to say when the father’s got his gun

And the next day
when the younger sister
         Never silent
comes back from the laundromat
shouting crazily about the holes in the clothes
Thinking it must have been the bleach

And the older sister and the mother
how they start laughing and laughing
Laugh themselves giddy
Because it’s just so funny
         the day after the father uses the gun