Thirty years

And still I miss

The feeling of you beneath me

I don’t have the dignity

Of turning the other cheek

For, looking in a shining piece of tin

See the scar upon my face, you hammered with

Your foolish words I chose to give an audience to

As we sat, me pregnant with your folly, you bursting to clear the table of guests

And press me right there, eating my Sunday best

It is easy to say .. you sated your evil tendencies

But I was laced tight, a willing dance partner

Throwing myself down your stairwell

Catching the foil stars you hurled

Wanting to pin you to sky

And you, watching clocks for the next dumb girl to pass by

I measured myself in inches and circumference

Not the length of love but its endurance

Which you stretched like new prophelactic, over my molting form

As I bore you no live children

And you filled me with last year’s seed

Still born