Would She Care?

Where I first sucked the egg yolk from its shell

The stink of cigarettes in every room

It nauseated me, that nasty smell

How I hated that little piece of hell

That dungeon and it’s sickening perfume

The screaming that went on, the slamming door

The footsteps hammering from floor to floor

Until she took the lighter from its drawer

The spilling ashtray and would say no more

The look of pity she had for herself

Another trip to the box on the shelf

Stirring the plum tomatoes while she smoked.

I couldn’t tell her that it made me sick

Garlic and tobacco. The air was cloaked

My eyes itched and my hair and clothes were soaked.

Then I heard the kitchen utensils click

Cursing in Italian under her breath

Whispering a Hail Mary and a prayer.

“Dear Jesus, God damn it I’ve had enough!”

I turned away from her, lingering there.

If she knew how I suffered would she care?