Antics

Antics

I used to hide from my parents
Behind towers of cardboard boxes and shag rugs
Watching my father scurry around like an ant
Running from the radiations of a child's curiosity

Muttering quick sentences
Like that child you knew who always stuttered
Who sat in the back of the class ignoring
The mass of lukewarm spit wads flying past his ears

It was like a game to me, a cat preying on a mouse
Whilst teasing it, taunting it
Prying its own will until the mouse was subdued and fell.
Before the malevolent master.

The bittersweet taste of child delinquency
Like the lemons you always eat
Biting down, your throat burned
But you would always finish