No Excuse Now

Oh,

the pain when the penny dropped for the first time;

the dawn when it dropped for the last;

and the time in between when I thought this would mean

that the years of his shadow were past!

But, the print of his thumbs on my limbs still throbs.

And it throbs to the depth of my sex.

And these beatings find space in the morbid waste

of the coldness of heart of his breast.

He is gone

but his shadow is long,

and its casting has cost me an arm and a leg

and a miscarried child

and my youth and my sight

and my freedom and hope;

and a length of clothes rope

which is noosed from the rafters

and creaks as the swing

of his shadow still blocks out my light.