Lady

Lady,

I don't know you

but 

 I can tell

you have a story

it's written all

over you

your face

young

bruised

and make-up

can't hide

what's on the outside

nor does it disguise

what's radiating

from within

 you're marked

a victim

does he hit you when he's sober

and excuse it 'cuz he's drunk

you'll say

with downcast eyes

"I caught my sweater

on the banister

and tripped"

You're

carrying your 

10th load

of laundry

containing the stains

of an afternoon

of misery

Lady,

why do you stay?

Still I Stay

The dark circle showing nights 

of not knowing

exactly why things

come about

the way they do

I wonder who it is I married

I wonder if he'll notice

I didn't greet

his staggering steps 

this time

I watch

shaking hand pour another

tender feelings I once felt

spill to the floor

with the rhythm

of overflowing foam

I cloak myself

in the darkness

of the dead-end stairway

I step out to ask, "Why?"

Only to encounter

eyes

red

like the soda and wine

he's now drinking

His anger rises with the bubbles

exploding words

Whore. . .bitch, 

you cold-hearted. . .

he slurs

Does he mean it?

He's drunk, he can't know

A flicker of mean intelligence

emerges

pin-point pupils

He knows.