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At home my child is a vigilante.
He tells me off
For swearing too much,
For huffing in the supermarket queue,
For running from the bathroom to the bedroom
With no clothes on in the morning.
It's getting on my nerves.
Leave me alone, I tell him.
He shakes his head at me
As if I am old school, as if I don’t know
The done thing.
His teacher will call me tomorrow
Tell me how pleased she is.
He stands up for what is right,
Tells people their words are offensive,
They cut like knives
And leave wounds
Like shadows that follow forever.
At school my child is a vigilante.
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