Raise My Arms

by Aaron Blair

When we play the game of wills,
he always wins. He only needs one hand
to hold me down, and I don't have
enough hands to protect myself,
to shield against the blows.
The fear tastes like metal,
like iron in my mouth, shattering my teeth
and severing my witless tongue.
When I can no longer speak,
he asks me why I never loved him.
The silence torments us both.
There were never any words.
There will never be any words
to charge the air between us
and let him know that I fought.
No matter how many times he broke them,
I always raised my arms.


Posted on 10/12/2011
Copyright © 2024 Aaron Blair

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Kristine Briese on 10/13/11 at 03:18 AM

Wrenching. My God.

Posted by Steven Kenworthy on 10/13/11 at 08:23 AM

gut-wrenchingly brutal. well-written nonetheless! i need a hug & some rainbow flavored cotton candy now i think.

Posted by Tony Whitaker on 10/13/11 at 08:45 AM

A voilent Bukowski this way comes!! Brutal but brilliant.

Posted by Laura Doom on 10/16/11 at 06:56 PM

Surrender or defiance? The questions hangs in the gape of the reader -- persuasively graphic...

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