SIGNS OF HIS PRESENCE

Kitchen door dented

where your ex flew off the handle

 at the slightest.

 Your ears are attuned to strange cars moving in the cul-de-sac.

You twitch
. open the curtains and check.

 You could not
 say his name for six months

after
 you told him to go.

SAFETY 

 A dumb-bell by your bedside.

 

Under your pillow a baseball bat.

Knives on the surfaces
 lead poker on the landing,
 Or are these in your head?

 The knives are sharp,
 the dumb-bell heavy
 as the stories of his holding
 a frying-pan above your head

make his point,

 He is here
 in the household waiting

for you to be alone
 to bring him out of hiding.

Copyright Paul Brookes, ‘The Place For Breath’ (1995)
via WordPress for Phone http://goo.gl/j6Fzhf