Five seconds to impact
The harbinger of death glides away
The thoughts of the reaper
are of a hot meal and shower
The dropped metal hull descends
carrying its world-ending poisons
Below a family sits in their white boxed house
having their unknown last meal
A father, hair slicked neatly and not a wrinkle on his shirt
Perched sternly at the head of the table
The patriarch, the grand king of the homely domain
tyrant over three, at his beck and call
A mother, quiet and proper
(louder when Father leaves for work)
All pretty in her stepford dress
her fingernails as red as velvet
A brother, small, loud, rambunctious
few thoughts beyond the cartoons
or the occasional act of light violence
A tug on the dog’s tail, a cherry bomb in the mail
A sister, the most pious of them all
(surely she shall be saved with the Second Coming)
Her prayers round out the dinner table
nuclear family indeed
Raising forks to their mouths
one last time
green beans, potatoes, leftover meatloaf
hearty and nutritious, the TV blared
“Don’t be a sleaze, buy BigMart Freeze!”
“Powered by rads but safe for the lads!”
So says the man in the box, his teeth straight pearls
his eyes alight with manufactured enthusiasm
Father is flipping through the sunday funnies
the last ones that will ever be made
He decides that today is the day
to finally ask for a small raise in salary
Mother frets about her ugly hair and
the dull color of her nails
She wonders why she spent all those years
toiling away in a suburban Hell
Son pushes around the peas on his plate
scolded a final time by Mother
He wonders when the boring man will quiet
So to watch childish brutality and death
Daughter sits silently
utters one last Hail Mary
She knows, she knows, she absolutely knows
that Jesus will save her
The scene is set for the world’s end
Four seconds to impact.
