Hammers (A trilogy)
Hammered
The hammer is inside my head,
it's a never ending drum beat
that is my husband, berating me.
As he his key turns in the lock
my blood pressure
rises.
He'll check the wallpaper
for marks that the children
may have made.
He'll demand I keep them quiet,
take them away,
control them.
They are only toddlers
and I have only
one pair of hands
but he'll moan about it
until he goes to bed at
12 o'clock
As he gets into bed
his moaning will stop
but my head still aches
then at 7 while he shaves,
he'll continue to remonstrate
he won't stop
and I'm sure he's still talking
as he walks to the station.
It's the hammering,
the constant hammering
and it's driving me insane -
one day the hammer will fall.
Bad Fit
How many nails do I have to have
hammered into my brain to realise
we don't fit?
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poem by Ruth Walters
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