face the music

at daybreak, there is
a long long line
of women at your door
with steam coming
out of their ears.
some are holding torches
in their hands. your
mother is in there too,
and so are a few sisters.
along with your aunt
marie who drove up
from philly. many
of them are holding
what looks like baseball
bats, or clothes hangers,
along with stacks of
e mails that you've
exchanged in the past.
they seem upset about
something you've said,
or written or a
behavioral pattern
that you have acquired
over time. you edge
the curtain to the side,
just a little, to peek
out. you can't even
see the end of the line
as it wraps around
the building. you think
that you can lie there
until they all give up
and go away, but then
you hear someone yell
out, i see him. he's
in there. and then
a shout, we're not
leaving until you come
out and face the music.
you think about how much
food and water you
have in the house. you
begin to board up
the windows with lumber
and nails. you boil
oil in a big vat and
go to the roof.