Social Poems Political Poems

I can remember the belt brown on one side black on the other perhaps an inch thick and worn the fear of actually turning my back on him I've seen movies depicting lashes all suffered by heros it's not the same as the sinking feeling of being beaten instead of cuddled thrashed instead of caressed by someone who might have loved you there was no affection in the history of my father's touch

the day I punched my terrible father for the first time making future beatings at his unloving hands all the more unlikely was not a good day on the stairs that descended into a dark basement victory ugly shameful unpleasant incomplete reclaiming a useless key now unable to open a stolen childhood