Consequences

I see my adoptive brother Micah
Glued to the screen
Of our small television.
In his old home they
locked him in a room
And gave him a TV to
shut him up.

'Hey, little guy,'
My father sighs.
He sounds tired.
Micah walks in the kitchen
Grinning and
Balancing a plate on top
of his glass.
Desperate for
Positive attention,
which is something
He never used to receive..
He steps over the mound
of plastic bags on the floor
Toward the sink.

He might have made it,
If it weren't for a jar
of pickles that tripped him.
His plate
T
_I
__P
___P
____E
_____D,
crashing to the floor.

Immediately Micah
Is on his knees
On the tiled floor,
Sobbing, begging
for mercy.
He grabs at the shards,
sharp as knives.

'It's okay,' I assure,
But he shakes his head,
____________________________________________Still
__________________Picking                                        _______________________________________Up
                                                                ____The
_______________________Scattered
______________________________________________________Pieces.

I rest my hand on his back
He shrinks away,
Terrified.
A splash
Of red runs
D
O
W
N
His fingers.

My father reaches
Toward Micah,
Seeking to reassure.
Instead causing him to
Throw his weight

________________________B
_______________________A
______________________C
_____________________K
____________________W
___________________A
__________________R
_________________D,

Trying to avoid
What his instincts screamed
Was a slap.

A perfect example,
Of one of the
Many consequences
Of hitting an innocent child.

AN: The underscores!! I know they bug you!! They bug me too. But DU won't let me put a bunch of spaces in without words, so I have to put those in. They ruin the effect of the poem for me! But yeah. That's why those are there.  Grr.