Defense
Caught in a trianglar trap
Behind the bedroom door
With hands glued
To the door knob
Warding off belted lashes–
Belt’s buckle rasising sharp blue bruised whelps
With red raw marked edges —
Her thighs trembled.
Grasping a mop’s handle
From the corner
Behind her
She thrust the handle
As if it were a sharp knife deep
Into his fat white belly.