Domestic

One slap too many
Everyone heard the cries
Pretending it was none of our business
Like those shades you wore
In the middle of winter
90s fashion icon.
I thought it was me
The way you just starred
Fire in your eyes
Crimson hatred
Weighing you
And us down.
Rotten baggage
Inherited from your mother
they say.
Man thieves and prostitutes not worth a second look.
Still that didn’t explain
The long silences
Phone calls and texts and night
To say that you were all right.
Dragged into an affair
I didn’t want
And forced to be your protector
Your black a moor prince.
One slap too many
A forceful freeze-frame
That stayed in my mind
The first time in the Arndale
When we locked eyes
And pretending to be strangers
Both numbed by the public rage
Of that punch in your eye.
I saw some bystanders laugh
Wicked bastards
Or just anxious?
A growing audience
Of spectators all guilty
By our willingness to do nothing.
Then the third time
It became too much
And I stepped forward
Hagler in the ring-
Issuing a critical beat down
Of blood and pulp
That left me feeling
Just like you.

by Raymond Enisuoh


See:http://www.manchesterrapecrisis.co.uk/
See: http://www.richmondfellowship.org.uk/