By Marike Stucky
She listens for his motions, attentively,
but does not hear for the blare of the television.
It’s switched on
the couch
she’s nestled in the crook.
As a little girl
I listened closely as well,
but now I have seen
the things that men can do.
I feel the fear
that salted her trembling lips.
I only wanted someone to love, she tells me.
Can I climb my way out?
The voice-over keeping on
from the television
blares.