She's empty, a recepticle ,translucent.
No obvious personality ,
Deconstructed.

She is battered and bruised
Misused.
Frightened to emerge.
terrified he might see.

Playing dead, guarding
her sanity.
defending a personal reality.

Recieving body blows,
crushing all self esteem.
Grinding her to a tiny nub.

Tiny crumb of self
remains, .Something to hold onto.
When all else has fled.

Coal-bright heat
pulsates a primal beat,
this light burns white
in the squalid night.

The windswept fury
in a drunken flurry,
toppled kerosene lamp
leaves the table damp.

Morning slips in sly,
waking the bleary eye;
pollen grain breezes
peddles raucous sneezes.

i only heard a sound that day,
day went out with silence;
sound followed.

songs of angels fell,
my listening ears fancied them well.

i only heard a sound that day
a few clouds spotted
with birds flew over,
upturned
faces listening--
small wind blew through
blue-green pine needles,
sky turned grey.

i only heard a sound that day,
lonesome
and glad for it.
sound of quiet laughter
children make
at play.

We had an old kerosene-based
water-heating contraption.
The release valve was on the roof,
just above the kitchen.
The water when it got too hot,
especially in the summer
would bubble noisily onto the tin
annoying my poor mother.
So one phrase from our mum
we heard many times a day
There goes that damn kero stat again,
in exasperation she would say.