Anna And Her Stepmother

Anna’s stepmother

could never quite get

the “mother” part of the word –

mother? to this brat?

She couldn’t even speak to Anna

without her nostrils flaring

and cheeks flaming red.

Her father’s speech 

was the same 

whether addressed to wife or daughter. 

“You’ll get used to each other eventually.”

Anna spent much more time

in her room

than she ever had before.

Sometimes she’d hear

her stepmother’s footsteps halt

outside the door.

Anna would hold her breath

until the steps moved on.

Slowly, the walls grew 

a second skin around her.

It was thin as an eggshell

and trembled at every footfall.

Her father was always 

in the background somewhere.

When he spoke, his voice 

was thin and distant.

He’d say, “be patient…

and more than that, be good.”

As if goodness was the opposite

of missing her real mother dearly.

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John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident, recently published in Midnight Mind, Trampoline, and Flights. Latest books, Bittersweet, Subject Matters, and Between Two Fires are available through Amazon. Work upcoming in Levitate, White Wall Review, and Willow Review.