written by: Yulia Tseytlin
Married as a child, against her will.
He’s muscular, brutal; his eyes cold steel.
She serves him, but he’s not content,
His other wives frown with contempt.
So full of hatred, his own cells
don’t want to be with him.
He’s not okay, her neighbours whisper.
He shouldn’t treat you like that.
She looks at their nice clean porches.
Oh, how she wishes to escape!
Once in a while, her courage mustered,
she creeps outside, gulping fresh night air,
just as a strong hand catches hers
and icy panic grips her throat.
“Help!” and he smacks her lips,
as curtains open all around.
Stop that, they say in their warm kitchens.
He smiles and pulls her tangled hair.
His wives line up and block her way.
She fights him, but he has more power.
This isn’t right! — he jabs her ribs.
You have no right! —he slaps her face.
Leave her alone! — he kicks her all
until she’s breathless on the floor.
His wives drag her in as the curtains close.
The show ends.
Never again, the neighbours murmur,
returning to their cosy beds.
Latest posts by Yulia Tseytlin (see all)
- February 24 - March 7, 2022