To The Abuser

There will always be a place for you; 

A little song book in the heart, 

With rumpled once-wet pages,

And a song’s half-baked black start.


You can call after me 

All you like, in the night

Like a spry black bird




Like a stone in mid-flight. 


I’ll hold up my face//

My last love cloaks your hammer

(I’ll wear your torn lace

If you speak my stammer).


I meet you again on the path of this spiral.

You will drink from my cup

of sweet indigo ink.

Forgiveness the nectar, 

your plump lips stained pink, 

Again I fill up- still I rise (though I sink).


I alone hold the plaque in my heart marked ‘beloved’

I alone tear the bread and break the cups on the stone

I alone walk the spiral

I alone mend my bones 

Now you count all your fingers and hang up the phone 

I alone walk this torn path, sew the end to the start

(But Bless you for the beating, 

For the beating of my heart).