BRUISE


behind the bamboo curtain

her face puffy

her hair a fright


comb held in two tweaked fingers

unsteady

She mascaras

lipsticks pouts


The chipped mirror looks at her hard

Up and down


her bangle is coloured cotton forget-me-nots


It will rise a hurt red fruit inside her thigh

An ash tidemark in her head

It will not fade

The bruise


That night the house is numb

Over the agony of their meal

The left stained plates

The cold fury as he climbs in


She, silently weeping woman

her cheek shudders hate shame

 

 

Robert James Berry

If you've any comments on his poem, Robert James Berry would be pleased to hear from you.