Till death do us part



Shattered, broken, alone now.
Rooflight sunbeams
burning echoes from his voice:

“Bitch”

he had been pounding with his words
again — again

“Why did you smile at Earl?”

or was it John or Steve this time;
didn’t matter now.
She wouldn’t smile again — promise.
promise.

“Bitch”

Why did she still love his voice?
did she savor memories
of fists and bruised apologies?

He might have never left,
or was he just a second sight
in sunlit flickering in swirling dust.

“Forgive me Bart, it meant nothing”

voice trickling from broken lips
in habit no longer needed.

Clara lowered her hands;
covering her ears.
Still his voice came back:

“Bitch, Bitch”

Once again she plunged
the kitchen knife
into Bart’s limp body.

But his voice would never more
be silent in her head.

“Bitch, Bitch”

“Forgive me Bart”

Silence is the promise kept –
“till death do us part”

Linked to Angela Geoff’s Visdare Prompt

8 responses to “Till death do us part

  1. Intense and visceral. I really came away from the piece with a sense of “control” (in the sense of ownership of one’s partner) and “out-of-control” (the violence). Both aspects of this cycle of domestic abuse ruled by the same force, though – DOMINATION.

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