police car in the driveway

bed unmade since yesterday

blue and red lights up the street

not far to fall

Christmas induced abuse

flee home at midnight

leave behind kids and plants to be watered

able to walk but not think

dog hiding in the garage

empty cheque-book empty tank

from suburb to city to sanctuary

soil to cement

each body is its own

owned by your husband, the church, the government

don’t pack the dirty dishes

no more knocks at the door

the coolest room in the house is the bathroom

jealousy overflows in the kitchen

still wearing wedding rings

falling in lust so young

with a man from afar

serve your husband not the house

set off the fire alarms in the kitchen

wear the pearls he bought you

spill gravy on your dress

he will sit at the head of the table

you will take your place to the left

be grateful for the blender, microwave, mixer

don’t touch the paperwork he brings home

the iron keeps his collars hard

you will not be believed

you own unwashed washing

turn up the transistor

smile at his parents

never know his origins

vacuum while he mows

calculate your escape on Sundays after Mass

every day on repeat