The kitchen waltz
Did not have a rhythm
Of harmony or grace
As I beheld the fury
The red-eyed, cornered grip
Fixed upon your face.
The muscle ripple of your arm
Your poisonous words
Your alcoholic vapor.
No escape,
No escape,
To friend, police or neighbour.
Trapped tense, back snapped
Shaking cold with fear Shh…
The boys sleep so near.
Talk calm, talk down
Reassure, placate, disarm
Walk slow across the kitchen floor.
Push shove
Against the bedroom wall
Nearly free, but no…crack
My spine
Against the bedhead bites.
A shower sob, a locked door cry
You hurt me so I want to die.
Dress, dry, arrange
Place you soft in bed
Check the boys
And kiss their heads.
Sleep beside you
Say, “It’s alright”
Plot to leave throughout the night.
You snore in peace.
From this nightmare
I dream of my release.
by a Broken to Brilliant domestic violence survivor, author and poet.
