Did you enjoy hitting?
My mother, your woman?
Did you love shouting?
That you never wanted us and to my mother
Shut your cake-hole, you mental bitch?
As though you could reduce her
To a mere slobbering mouth. Slapped.
Did you ever think of me?
Who chose men in your image.
Life is funny like that, but not funny ha ha.
Men who have raped and hit me —
I can’t help it. I’m a man.
Who have shouted that I am irrational, sick,
An ungrateful cow. Useless.
A bitch.
Did you think of my shame?
While your hands greedily groped your colleague’s breasts?
Daring me with your eyes to tell my mother,
Me, just a pawn/porn in your game.
Did you feel elated, aroused even?
Midnight-cutting through the skipping rope twists
That had barred my door against you.
We never spoke of it,
But I am happy to korero now.
Just choose the time, the place.
You see, I need to know…
Did you hate me or women in general?
Do you think of me at all?
Estranged for most of my life.
Do you know that my firstborn is dead?
And that I am lost?
As he was.
Is.
Korero – Maori for ‘to speak/discuss.’
Photo by Eric Ward on Unsplash
