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A Domestic
June 29, 2012
how you looped me up
the way you did with
what i thought was a rope too thin-
clueless bout your brick-laced whip
and sh** your hands- what iron grip!
but who am i to speak? no i recall
all tension sweet fruit could not withdraw
and saddle sores sinking deep inches into skin,
your bum sore and my back broken.
“arbeit macht frei” you say
but me, still looped up quietly,
think abandoned post on a short,
short leash,
am destined to neigh for company-
why? is one sh**ty mystery.
© Keisha L., W. Columbia, SC
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