behind the bamboo curtain

her face puffy

her hair a fright

comb held in two tweaked fingers


She mascaras

lipsticks pouts

The chipped mirror looks at her hard

Up and down

her bangle is coloured cotton forget-me-nots

It will rise a hurt red fruit inside her thigh

An ash tidemark in her head

It will not fade

The bruise

That night the house is numb

Over the agony of their meal

The left stained plates

The cold fury as he climbs in

She, silently weeping woman

her cheek shudders hate shame



Robert James Berry

If you've any comments on his poem, Robert James Berry would be pleased to hear from you.