A Confrontation In The Library

There’s a small child running in the library

His mother is yelling for him to stop

In her hand is a book by Summers

She’s waving it at the little heathen

But he just keeps running

She takes a swat at him with the book

A miss

He circles her like a rabid dog

She takes a second swing

A crack

Direct on that little bastard’s ass

He comes to an immediate halt

I can see the redness in his face growing

And then the scream

At the top of his lungs

She yells back at him, but in a whisper

His cries only grow louder

I take a moment to think of how much

I hate them both

I turn and leave

I’ll never go back to that library, again

© Dicky J Loweman 2015



With Flowers In Hand

Stopped by to see you

Lately I’ve heard you crying

Saw mom and dad

Grandma and grandpa

I wiped off all the nameplates

And the streaks from your tears

I lit a candle

Left the flowers

Then left the ossuary

© Dicky J Loweman 2014