A woman, a spaniel,
and walnut tree,
The more you beat
them, the better they be.
Yeah, I'm Amy.
This-un on my lap is Sharon, almost two.
Josh, there sleeping - six months.
You won't believe what my man did to me.
Picked Gramma's rocker, hit me with it.
These bruises on my arms, worse in spots you can't see. What'd I
do? Tried chicken - like Mona, my
neighbor, makes it - with lemon juice and pepper, called it the usual, his Ma's
way. One bite - he threw it at me,
grease on my red blouse I'd wore for dinner.
He said DON'T EVER EVER EVER FUCK WITH ME AGAIN. He don't know what fuck is. Always doin’ a head trip on me. He said I'LL GO AND TAKE THE KIDS. I said, you
can't take care of them. He said I
CAN, MY MA WILL HELP. I said she won't, she likes me. He said NO, SHE
CALLS YOU SLUT, picked the rocking chair and crashed it on the TV I watch too
much. Three tries to break and then he
took the rocker arm and hit across my back and hit and hit and hit. If I cried, mebbe he'da quit. He breaked to catch his breath - I ran. The kids into the bedroom. He locked us, took the car, but I climbed out
the window, grabbed the diaper bag, called my sister. That two hours ago and here I am. Hope he's okay and not too worried. I should phone him. I didn't leave a note.
* * *
Everything I do is covered
with a thin layer of obedience.
I owe him because he loves me.
* * *
Lady
bird, lady bird,
fly away
home.
Thy
house is on fire,
thy
children all gone.
I'm Lou. In
school it was Betty Lou -
which I hate. I
get Elizabeth Louise
when Ma is angry or my therapist
thinks I'm bullshitting.
I'm in Hell. Look
at my face.
Below the neck I'm gorgeous.
No one believes I'm thirty-five.
But my cheeks sag - I could cry.
I made good money in real estate till his lies
cost my job. See
these pictures. Amanda beside me -
we look like sisters.
Now he has custody.
No one wins against a man and his friends in Allentown.
I don't stand straight, smoke too much.
But I paint my fingernails.
It's important for a woman
to have nice hands.
*
* *
The peacock spread
his brilliant tail,
pranced up and down
before a crane and
mocked
his plain plumage.
The crane protested
with a question --
is it better
to strut in the dirt
and be gazed at
by patrons of the zoo
or to fly
above the clouds
as I do?
*
* *
Old
MacDonald had a farm.
Eee-eye-eee-eye-oh.
And on
this farm he had some cows.
Eee-eye-eee-eye-oh.
I need
escape. I've sat
too many
years at this desk,
counseling
women who behave
like
cowering, domesticated animals.
I see
Holsteins
chew their cuds, amble
across
the carpets, tease calves
with
udders drained
by
morning milking,
watching
with one eye
for the
barn door to reopen.
I should
feel
sympathy
for
three shorn Merino ewes
who
shiver,
crowd
together,
miss
their lambs,
pay
attention
to
the filly - with a mouth
that
sags from savage bits -
when
she shows pictures
of
her racetrack honors,
admire
the
Leghorn when,
to
save her egg,
she
cackles
in
another hen's nest.
These dams
ignore my advice.
Their mirrors
show them eagles
who will fly to freedom
when the wind
changes direction.
* * *
