Family Gathering (Poetry)

They fuck you up — your mum and dad
your brothers, sisters, grandpa, too
they try your patience — drive you mad
it’s how they are, it’s what they do

It runs in families this streak
of nature hard-wired and perverse
that tolerates each fit of pique
the inbred tetchiness — or worse

The needle swings — they’re glad you came
‘Do say hello to old aunt Maud’
she’s deaf and ninety, half-insane
but almost harmless, thank the Lord

There’s Ann, your sis, with husband Jim
plus several brats that shriek and charge
about the house — no discipline
in this chaotic entourage

And Grandpa’s three sheets to the wind
his medicine is single malt
anaesthetised to all the din
he dozes — free of pain or thought

While in the kitchen Mother cooks
she’s cross with Dad — they’ve had a spat
and throws him black and moody looks
his skin is thick — he’s used to that

There’s twelve for dinner — numbers down
your other siblings have cried off
‘Away on business ... stuck in town
or battling some nasty cough ...’

You pass the gravy, keep polite
and parry sharp remarks in play
regret you cannot stay the night
hope for a bloodless getaway

By ten the knives are truly out
teeth bared at one another’s throat
as tempers flare there’s little doubt
it’s time to find your hat and coat

Those fond goodbyes between clenched teeth
‘Don’t leave it quite so long next time ...’
you smile (light-headed with relief)
and itch to quit this scene of crime

At last it’s over — duty done
you vow some day you will divorce
your family — preferring none
except you never do, of course

Because when push comes down to shove
they’re all you’ve got and yours alone
familiarity’s like love
it hauls you back to hearth and home