Shatter the dark

Elaine cannot wait for the chance
with Bonnie, her dog, slipping out to the park
beyond where the daffodils grow,
flashing stars that shatter the dark.

Around the corner, a park bench.
Back home, in the foul-smelling kitchen, her mum.
On each page of her memory, the invisible scrawl
of screams, Daddy’s smacks, a shove and a slam.

In her mind still an echo, where misery spreads,
she sees him approaching, and how
he looks over his shoulder, pulls up beside her.
She says hi with her very best smile.

The dog is snarling at him.
He kicks Bonnie aside making puppy-dog-eyes at her.
He calls her, in whispers, my darling,
when he is stroking her arms, legs, her thighs.

Overwhelmed by the smell of her hair
he sits closer, his hand tight on her shoulder.
She tunes in to his honey-combed voice,
while his other hand’s getting bolder.

He’s swiftly unzipping his fly,
as he follows her eyes, how she’s shyly in wonder
at the startle of red, at the flower, he tells her,
that will grow just by looking at it.

"Just look," he says. "Keep on looking!"