fear and worry

your mother would take
the throw rugs
out to the yard and drape
them across the chain
link fence. she'd take
a broom, or a bat
and proceed to beat
the rugs with purpose.
it seemed more than
just relieving carpet
of dirt and dust.
there seemed to be much
more going on as she
worked up a lather
taking heavy swings
again and again
against the faux oriental
rugs. sometimes
it made you feel
that it had something
to do with your father,
or perhaps you kids
as you sat at the edge
of the couch watching
her out the window with
something akin
to fear and worry.