I ... entered the poem of life, whose purpose is ... simply to witness the beauties of the world, to discover the many forms that love can take. (Barabara Blackman in 'Glass After Glass')

These poems are works in progress and may be updated without notice. Nevertheless copyright applies to all writings here and all photos (which are either my own or used with permission). Thank you for your comments. I read and appreciate them all, and reply here to specific points that seem to need it — or as I have the leisure. Otherwise I reciprocate by reading and commenting on your blog posts as much as possible.

15 April 2008

Anger Management

‘A Great Day For Women’ says the headline. It's the first time a woman has been appointed to such high office. 

His voice intrudes:

‘Ha! No more excuses, huh?’

I look blank.

‘No more excuses for all you women who say you don't get a fair deal – except that you do.’  

He grins with gritted teeth, and brandishes the newspaper in my face.

Later he wants to talk again of his childhood.

‘I understand it now. I came here to understand. I realise I had an insane mother. That shaped me. I had to get away. If I'd had the resources, that time I left when I was younger… It was only lack of money that made me come back home.’

He was eight at the time. I tell him he left in a rage because of not getting his own way. He'd wanted to stay up late, and his Dad and I said no. He came back defiantly a few minutes later, saying it was too dark now, he’d leave in the morning. In the morning, none of us mentioned it.

At this information, he yells: 


and as I turn to do my online banking, he squirts water from a spray bottle right in my face and thumps my keyboard repeatedly, hard. 

Now he is 39.

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