One Kind of Love
‘Please don’t press charges,
darlin’, I swear I will never
hit you again.’ Two cops stand
in the doorway. She sits
on the couch, blood leaking
from her nose, one eye
beginning to swell. ‘Hell,’ he says,
‘look, I’m gettin’ down on my knees,
baby–beggin’, beggin’. You know
I love you.’
‘Ma’am?’ The cops look from one
to the other. Domestic violence,
the worst. You can count on
one hand, the number of abused
women who actually follow
through. Shame, too, because
these guys never stop. Not for long.
And there it is–a tiny curvature
of her lips. She looks down
at him on the floor. She shows
the cops the door.
Written for Poetic Asides/ April 2014 Challenge
Write a love and/or anti-love poem.