Let My Cruelty Be Your Teacher

her father heaves upon his chosen branch      

nighttime sounds 

crickets

                        dishwasher      near empty      running on low

            the woman’s banshee-

                                                heart racket

                                                            [typical]

                                                                                    as she tosses in bedsheets

trigger his stomach

he disgorges     [finally]           his stone          onto the ground                       

You ineffectual!

                                                                        You senseless!             You stiff-necked!

and now, fully awake, the woman

pulls a robe over her nightgown, stalks the yard barefoot. wet

grass curls her toes [ringlets or restraints?] wind works her

skin lurid pink, the crows hop along the fence, louder now,

she kicks stones against rotten boards, chipping the dark wood        

his voice          a deformity

chirr in the wind