My Child the Vigilante by Charlotte Cosgrove

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.