Friday, February 22, 2013

the punch

the feeling started
above my pelvis
spread upward and
the butterfly inside my chest
morphed into a hummingbird – suspended -
wings fluttered like a zillion butterflies;
SHE whimpered
a nano-second before
the punch
the bird flew into my heart
with a cry and
he stopped.
it was A-okay to torture HER
to relieve his own imperfections
as long as i didn’t see or hear (it);
he fed my little bird
so one day
it would be free
to shit on him

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