The blow was thunderous,
landing on the right side
of my head ferociously.
His fist heavy,
his aim direct,
my head swaying
like a seesaw on
a stormy day.
A tremor,
a quake,
spreading,
shifting the balance of life.
The right hemisphere
in a fog,
in oblivion of
words drifting,
poetry fading,
fading,
lost.
Baby weeping,
walls shaking,
tears falling,
television sounds in the distance.
Did I blame myself,
for raising my voice?
When he assaulted boundaries drawn?
My eyes raging,
my eyes bulging,
wounded.
Baby weeping,
walls shaking,
tears falling,
television sounds in the distance.
Did I blame myself for his anger?
His abandonment?
His isolation?
I fell from the clouds
into unfamiliar darkness.
Baby weeping,
walls shaking,
tears falling,
television sounds in the distance.
Did I blame myself?
I did.














