Her life a cardboard puzzle,
pieces cut by moments,
memories, mistakes.
It all fit together
until it all fell apart.
She was living behind a picket fence
on a cookie cutter cloned street
where smiles were painted on
and perfect neighbors lived in perfect houses.
Secrets were kept behind hinged doors
and truth was anesthetized by lies.
But bruises could not be silent
when bones began to break.
Lights turned the picket fences red
as siren’s shattered suburbia’s quiet.
This time her husband’s blows to her body
had given her a voice.
As she was carried across
the puzzle pieces that had been her life
a policeman asked her,
Mam, do you wish to press charges?”
She looked into her husband’s eyes
to make certain he would know;
then she turned to the officer
and spoke an emphatic, “Hell yes!”
©Susie Clevenger 2012
This was written for Kellie Elmore's Free Write Friday in which she challenged us to create a written piece from this photograph.
Comments
Since then I've been the puzzle piece that never quite fits the whole. I like it that way.
Wonderful imagery. (Hugs)Indigo
Anyway, I couldn't help but laugh a little at the end of this poem. As you write it, one is not expecting such an explosive answer (well, at least I wasn't). I'm glad she reported him though. :)
Great read! :)
P.S. Hope you'll come "visit" me.