when the parents fought
the children
went quiet, went up
the stairs to their
rooms
and closed the doors,
they put
music on, read books,
put pillows over their ears,
they strummed guitars,
lost themselves
in painting, in art,
in song.
they waited until
the storm ended.
when the front door
slammed and the car
pulled away with a squeal
of tires,
then things were okay
to come out again.
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