Predator

Sitting in my mother's cool green parlor we talk

about the past. China clinks unmarked by a hundred

years of lady fingers gossiping or weeping into tea

leaves. Late afternoon slips delicately through lace curtains

as Virginia quotes scripture earnestly. How shall her

daughter live righteously instead of with Episcopalians?

My nonspeaking role as daughter is plucking my eyes

tired from driving the I-10.

Until.

Utter silence strikes her.

Virginia sits ramrod straight her flaming red hair and piercing

green eyes the picture of angelic purity. With face canted towards the ceiling. She stares into the middle distance the way she did when god spoke to her words of prophecy and special knowledge. Rising more swiftly than angels ascending Jacob's ladder, mother sidles to the window. Slowly the curtain parts to reveal the emerald glow of her lush garden, a haven for birds. Seed stations, sculptured bird baths, and hanging nectar sippers make up this avian paradise. Mother mutters they're here.

Who?

Robbers? Trespassers? Vagrants?

Virginia moves the window latch. It obediently slides open on

newly oiled hinges making a slight noise like a breeze soughing through trees. She shoulders her gat taking aim with this double barrelled defender. It's loaded with special batteries you have to order online. Her finger pulls the trigger blasting away.

High speed water erupts from the water gun. Squirrels scatter. Is it my imagination? Are their outraged chatters cursing Saint Virginia? Bird seed lies scattered about. Mother strides out to the patio and fires up the pressure washer. What are you waiting for girl? She tosses me the extension wand. The predator awakens.