Blood

The glass bottles line shelves and tabletops;
they catch the candlelight and cast sullen
rainbows on the wall. A cry for help behind
labels and tinted glass. And the violent men,
the violent men and the ladies who love them –
it’s a social civil war. The conscientious objectors –
the intelligent and the socially inept – they watch
from the sidelines as you self-destruct. And they told
me you’d be perfect, they told me you would be brave.
But now I see you bleeding and scared; soldiers dressed
in civilian clothes – killing civilians and soldiers alike. You’re
no lady, you’re a sinner behind heroic eyes – you’ve hair of
gold but you’re invisible to me.

Smash the side window – I see you bleeding on the
patio – and you’re out for blood today. The sexism,
the sexism and silence, the violent women and the
men who fear them. We climb the justice wheel, we
search for help and freedom. But the goose and the
gander perished with sexual violence and the broken
youth riding trains with abusers and addicts. It amazes
me that a children’s character could be the first causality;
the scene of blue and water is tranquil but the screams
of anguish fill the air. A life is over, a life begins, we
sink in the river and make it seem like an accident.
I cut your hair in the darkness – the blonde ringlets
stain the skin on my knees.