(parts of body noted are touched during reading of poem)



(ear)

I am here –
because Mommy’s boyfriend couldn’t stand the crying anymore
and he shook me till I stopped.
No one will notice anything wrong
until a doctor questions the hearing loss.

(forehead)

I am here –
because Mom didn’t like the way I made my bed.
When she pushed me into the closet, the doorknob got in the way –
but everyone at school knows that I’m clumsy.

(back of arms)

I am here –
where no one can see me underneath long sleeves.
Hidden from a world that knows
cigarettes should only be put out in ashtrays.

(lip)

I am here –
because the uncontrollable anger finally broke free
and the bully on the playground had to fight back for protection.

(lower stomach)

I am here –
because when I told my boyfriend “No, I’m just not ready yet,” –
he didn’t believe me and tried to change my mind.

(eye)

I am here –
still black and blue from Sunday,
when my husband ran out of beer only half-way through the game.

(back of head)

I am here –
because I was trying to run and he pushed me down the staircase.
The certificate said “blunt force trauma” – which seemed to be enough
to finally send him to jail.

(down middle of body)

We are here –
exposed on this cold metal table.
Witnesses to a lifetime of fractures, bruising, and pain.
Laid out for strangers to dissect and conclude,
but what they can’t see clearly
is the obvious broken heart.

10/29/2009

Author's Note: This was written for our YWCA's 3rd Annual Poetry Slam to raise awareness of domestic violence.

Posted on 10/29/2009
Copyright © 2023 Angela Nuzzo