Saturday, 9 June 2012

"Black and Blue and Purple"

He beat her until black and blue and

purple, so she left him, and then

faithfully scurried

back for more. She can hit back

if she likes, she argues. Well, she

can, but he just laughs aloud. I

watch her retreating

gratefully, respectfully, into his

luke-warm embrace, her shelter from

oblivion or

liberation, or

proper happiness. She patiently awaits his death,

and psychotherapy.

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