Andrew Hudgins
You Had It Coming: Poems for Wicked Children
Great Granny
We drove into the country,
we parked beneath an oak.
We stumbled up a dirt path,
and walked up to a shack.
She only had one arm,
she only had one leg,
she only had one eye,
a bright-red Easter egg.
"Come here and hug your granny,"
the old witch squawked at me.
Go on! my mother whispered.
She shoved me with her knee.
Did she have an understanding
to give me to the witch?
I’d heard of Rumplestiltskin.
My face began to twitch.
"Come to your loving granny,"
the old witch gently said.
Again my mother shoved me,
and this time smacked my head.
I inched away from Mom and Dad.
I swore I’d always hate ’em.
The witch smelled like fried chicken,
mildew and Mentholatum.
I struggled hard. I fought her.
I couldn’t break her grip.
Who’d think it was so easy
to make a wheelchair tip?
The Boy in the Wheelchair
While I am walking down the hall
talking to my friends
Walter rumbles up behind
and slams into our rear ends.
Our books go flying in the air
and we crumple to the ground
while Walter laughs and points at us
before he roars around
our bodies twitching on the floor,
taking special care
to crush our outstretched fingers
as he rolls past in his chair.
He’s broken Betty Thompson’s leg
and Harold Snyder’s knees.
and put half of the football team
out with injuries.
Each night when I’m alone in bed
I pray to God and beg
that Walter will be healed and walk
so I can break his legs.
When Granddad Says, "Please Kill Me!"
Oh, sure, he can’t control his bowels
and since the stroke he drools,
and sings those dirty army songs
about the family jewels.
Refrain: When Granddad says, "Please kill me!"
you mustn’t help him die—
no matter how he begs and pleads
and tries to tell you why.
No matter he’s incontinent
and when he pees he bleeds—
just look him in the bleary eye
and deny him what he needs.
He tells you all about his sores
and tries to make you look.
He tells you all his friends are dead
and he resents their luck.
Refrain.
O, you can prop pills on his pillow
fetch water by the quart
but you cannot help him swallow,
though he’s on life support.
Refrain.
O, you can put the knife beside him
and tell him what it’s for,
but you cannot hold it to his throat
and then complete the chore.
Refrain.
O, you can hand Granddad the gun
when you’re a little bigger.
You can even click the safety off,
but you mustn’t pull the trigger.
Refrain, plus:
Yes, when Granddad says, "Please kill me!"
you mustn’t help him die—
no matter how he begs and pleads
and tries to tell you why.