Beverley Teague
What's normal, anyway?

One roof
Within this house
Bodies dwell, collide, claim kinship,
Grab space, decorate, personalise, reflect calm or chaos.
The minimalist rationalises, catalogues, discards. The hoarder hoards, hangs onto, heaps, keeps, everything
while television plays rugby or cricket or Master Chef and the children play keyboard, violin, saxophone or plug in their headphones
dinner arrives at the table. Everyone a place, everyone at their own pace
Vegetarians won't touch meat, broccoli's the latest poison
A family slides, glides, clashes
In my house
Everyday, always