Tuesday, 3 January 2012

Papa's Spear

He crosses the room after closing the door to the bedroom I share with my two sisters.
They will be sleeping with mum tonight.
He sits on my bed and tells me I’m beautiful. He tells me
he loves me, he tells me I’m his butter and bread
his drink after dinner
better then heaven.
First my shirt is on the floor. He likes to undress me. Takes care when rolling down my itchy wool tights.
I don’t scream. I learned not to scream anymore.
I learned not to ask questions anymore.
I learned that my body was always meant to be a basket of gifts.
As tears pour from my eyes my body gives in
I drown in the sunrise that stretches across my groin
My hips sway with his, we’re in tune,
We’re together. All thought of my past two pregnancies are
gone and I
for just one moment until I’m above water again, underneath him again. His breath reeks of the beets cooked for dinner. The ones that mum made.
I hate how he makes me feel.
But it is even worse when I ask for more.