Wednesday, June 11, 2008


The best is when he kicks her in the face.

That’s a pretty good one.
He uses that one a lot.

He also likes...

dragging her across the floor,
by the hair, so that her bleeding face
leaves a long red streak
across the tiles.

And then he makes her clean it up in the morning.

I wonder if that’s part of it.

She’ll come at him for the first few minutes.
Her eyes go wild
and the woman I know
as she
scratches and hisses and swears and bites and kicks
and anything she can
but he’ll just stand
over her and wait until he’s had enough.
A prize fighter watching an over zealous child.
Then he’ll start in.
Bang. To the stomach.
And she’ll drop.
Slap. To the face.
Her nose will bleed
and she’ll swear
one more time.



And then he’ll start for real.

I used to call the police.
And I would watch through the curtains
as they joked with him outside
and told him to keep the noise down
and consider the neighbours and
goodnight then, sir.

And they didn’t see her
lying on the stairs inside.
Inching her way upstairs
to the bathroom
to wash the bloody shame off her face.

And I would touch
the glass of the window
and whisper, please.
But no one would hear me.

I stopped calling the police after a while.

I started just watching
from down the hall,
or through the door,
as invisible as I could be,
making sure he didn’t see me,
and making my eyes real wide
and child like so that if he did,
he might think to stop.
Or not to come after me.

After a while I stopped watching.
I’d just go to my room,
switch my light out and
put a pillow over my head
to drown out the sounds of her screams.

Just like the rest of the world.


  1. heartbreaking.
    the worst, yelling, crying, screaming, pleading...but the very worst part? the noise. then the quiet. and having to lie there, wonder, cry silently, and wait to be rescued, by the very people who caused the pain.

  2. I dont think the rest of the world knows how to deal with it.