The S**t Eating Grin

Whenever I come home from work,
After a hard day’s done,
My husband’s the barometer,
For what is going on.

But if depressed or lamenting,
Over some random thing,
Nothing could be worse than the curse,
Of the shit eating grin.

Which is exactly what he wears,
When I come home today,
I fear as he blocks the bedroom door,
And stands in my way.

My mind thinks of the options,
My ears are blowing smoke,
As I consider a dreadful mess,
A valuable that he broke.

Do the children lie there bleeding?
Are there dog hairs on the sheets?
Is there a porn in the VCR,
That’s playing on repeat?

But time wears on and by some,
strange prompt he moves away,
I open the door to gaze upon,
What his nervousness betrayed.

But nothing could prepare me,
For what waits for me instead,
As I see the open window,
And the unmade bed.

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30 thoughts on “The S**t Eating Grin

  1. The VCR being an eighties thing, I am speculating that this was quite a long time ago. I am just wondering if you managed to train him since. You’ve had time. But congratulations on your long and happy marriage.

  2. Hmmmm…. The open window???!!! Why am I reading this clue along with the unmade bed that he had SOMEONE in there with him? Am I just twisted that way?? Loved the perfect meter and syllable count here too! πŸ˜‰

    • Always such astute observations, Stephanie! Thank you for picking up on the meter too, by the way. I’m trying to clean it up a bit without sacrificing too much of the creativity.

  3. Guess I’m too innocent. I failed to see the significance of the window and unmade bed until I read the comments… πŸ™‚ And, for me, a s**t eating grin is for someone who’s been up to no-good but in a not-really-bad kind of way. Like eating the last of the cookies or something. Something they know you’ll be unhappy about but in more of an irritated, maybe even amused way, rather than an I’m-going-to-kill-you-and=then=divorce-you kind of way.

    • Right, well that all kind of went with the feel of the poem for me. It all kept light until the end. It was like… ‘what mischief is he up to? ‘And then it was like…’oh.’

  4. I clicked on the picture looking to see if he had left you a present. I’m a doof. I didn’t get it either. I’m so naive!!!!! I thought the unmade bed isn’t so bad and the breeze coming in the window made me think of a fresh room. πŸ™‚ Ah well…..

      • Marissa, I can easily imagine escaping through the window of a house, it’s just the picture suggests five storey bulding or something like that. The poem’s twist makes perfect sense.

  5. Marissa, I got it right away. I scrolled through some of the comments. Happy to say, I really did understand your meaning. Great poem as always. Sh*t eating grin. Hmmmm……I KNOW the look. LOL Love, Amy

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