Ode to Being Frustrated With My Kids

by Trapper Markelz

After Tears for Fears

There’s a room where the light won’t find you 
fearless, loving, raising–all of you dreaming of
my even-tempered diplomatic sense of dependability. 

While you sleep safe and so naked, I am forced to brandish 
an illegal pepper spray gun purchased with Amazon Prime 
to shoot a 20 ft stream into the eyes of a sneaking neighbor 
I thought was a vandal or some motion light faux raccoon impersonator.
And in my mind, I save you all yet again.

Y’all are now older than all the memories I’ve ever had about procreation 
but still unable to stack a plate without chipping a dish 
or pour a bowl without scattering dry Cheerios. I found a Cheerio today 
under the pantry, and it reminded me of all the two-year-old fingers 
I used to slap away from the fireplace. I took a sip of coffee, 
and the pottery chip made me bleed a single tear from beside my nose. 

Everybody needs a good enemy–and my zone defense marriage 
has been overrun by the blitzkrieg of your bad acting, 
your endless apologies, your defiant capitulation 
of which the Nest cam has immortalized for future applause.

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Trapper Markelz (he/him) writes from Arlington, Massachusetts. He is the author of the chapbook Childproof Sky, a Cherry Dress Chapbooks 2023 selection. His work has appeared in the journals Baltimore Review, Stillwater Review, Wild Roof Journal, Greensboro Review, and Passengers Journal, among others. Learn more at trappermarkelz.com.

Photo by Sanketh Rao on Pexels.com.

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