The Bruise: He said by Emilie Unterweger

One Time.       Once—she had a mark.

Thanksgiving day. She wore a turtleneck

and      pinched lips. Kept tugging her collar—

it was hard living with her silence. Wouldn’t listen, wouldn’t

respond. I was trying—

trying to          communicate. You know—

 

That silence was a hook to the gut. I had to shout—

to stop my head filling with that fucking static—that knowing

what she was thinking. She would try to hide

behind this fake vacancy—I could read her behavior

for Christ’s sake! I mean—Every time I’d start talking

 

She wouldn’t look at me.     You know that—THAT

left a mark. If she did—she was like           this      alley cat

watching me through a fence

waiting