In Living Color
Armed with a butcher knife
my sister, six, attacked the new
television almost as soon
as the delivery man left.
A Zenith console model
“IN STUNNING OAK,
DESIGNED TO MATCH
ANY DÉCOR!” And, by God,
it wiggled in very well
with our early-garage-sale motif.
Both hands gripped the oak handle
as she swung like Babe Ruth,
little chunks of that fine oak
exploded through the air,
lost forever in the shag carpet.
She did not know why.
We tried to fill in the gashes
with some brown crayons,
spread a long doily
over the top,
watched cartoons in color,
and hoped my mother
and stepfather
would not take the same knife to her.
