(1921)
the stick stood in the corner of the kitchen
a constant threat; stoking, as it was meant to,
chronic intimidation
he had a man’s right to deliver his blows
to vent his anger and his self-contempt
to cause suffering for the insufferable
someone had to make it up to him,
his loss-of-face to race, creed and poverty
for her part, eve’s daughter was ripe,
shamed by her intrinsic sinfulness,
worn by her constant pregnancies
her femininity: tired and task-bound,
guilt flowing freely, as all-consuming as lava
[relief, only in death]
and the seventh child was born to die
and the man was demanding his bread
she wrapped the girl in swaddling cloth,
placed her gently by the stove, and
while the newborn made busy with dying,
the woman prepared him his meal
© 2015, poem, Jamie Dedes, All rights reserved; illustration source is the National Center on Domestic and Sexual Violence
The BeZine 