cold impersonal mute london
winter howling shrieking
a soulless cry
hair torn she rushes upstairs in a blaze
escaping a frenzied husband
a serial philanderer an anger fetishist
in pursuit with a pair of scissors
prurient connivers
thank God for small mercies
last time he had knifed her through the door
you don't know what it is to live in fear
to sleep without knowing if you would
wake up in a piece next morning
in melbourne the city of her childhood
she revisits this nightmare
on yearly family reunion
as her stepfather’s voyeuristic ghoul comes
alive
beer breathed thrusting his salivating tongue
deep into her cajoling her to do the same
innocent pranks of the adult pervert
doesn’t it feel nice honey?
while her girlfriends play the night club circuit
teasing anchorless hunks who are game
hungry for adventure a little something
to carve out of tepid life
even if it’s nocturnal trysts
with cardboard creatures
wearing red lipsticks black tights and stilettos
on a visit to maudlin madrid
we see her belting the hell
out of chubby bottoms of baby faced men
lined doglike on all fours
