Yesterday, I was saddened to hear that incidences of psychological
and physical abuse of women in the home have risen during lockdown, so this
poem was prompted by that. A friend showed me a clip of a news conference where
the US president was asked about the soaring cases of domestic abuse and he
thought the questioner said Mexican abuse! How? That was funny, but on the serious side, men who treat women in this way just aren’t men.
Misogynist
She knows you’re punishing her.
It’s the thing you do
When the moon turns black
And the past trips you up
With spectres thin and weary,
Where the Reaper talks in riddles
And the stars have lost their eyes.
Copyright Vickie Johnstone, April 9, 2020
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