Electric Blue Bloodstains

Two sets of ears determine not to hear

the end of their world in the next room.

Voices of parents discussing what no one wants to know.

“We have to move.”

Small girls, hunched over

paint each other’s nails

with exacting, painstaking strokes,

afraid to drip color on the sheets.

Silent tears mix with beautiful colors,

more polish drips onto the sheets.

Shaky hands and watery eyes miss nails again.

Splash patterns develop,

like bloodstains after a shooting.

White sheets become a mix of vibrant colors.

A mother comes in to pass out snacks.

Someone dropped a plate on the floor,

put the sheets in the wash,

all while the girls cry.

Adults pretend not to know why.