She thought maybe his time had come, at last —
and neither burger nor BP did him in.
His eyes lost focus, and his voice grew thin.
She prayed he would go easy, and go fast.
Imagine consenting to become his wife,
submitting to his undisguised abuse,
ensnared in shame, unable to get loose,
trapped in plain sight, in that unhappy life.
Still, the mountains rise, the valleys sink.
To be set free was an enticing dream,
but she is not fortunate as she seems, though
trimmed in gold, and draped in silk and mink.
Another term? She can’t see how she’ll cope —
a blue tsunami is her last, best hope.
(c) 2020 by Hannah Six
No comments:
Post a Comment