The Beatings

My husband beats me,

sometimes multiple beatings

in an evening or afternoon,

no matter how carefully

I construct my defenses,

he annihilates them,

bringing an army into my house,

taking prisoners,

threatening my most valuable

vulnerable pieces.

Sometimes I rally,

catch him off guard—

sneak attacks

(he’s vulnerable, too)

putting him in check.

Other times, I see

it’s a losing battle

and surrender

when leadership is gone,

no crooked moves

or hypotenuse left

for me to find a path

to take him down, conquer him.

Pyrrhic victories at times,

nothing left,

save two solitary figures,

exiled,

no possible path to the podium,

no national anthem sung.

And we set up again,

these face-offs,

my army restored

on my father’s chessboard.

*author note: My husband and I have a wonderful, honest, trusting relationship, and I do not take domestic abuse lightly. My beatings are on the chessboard, but so many suffer beatings in their bodies. This is my cheeky attempt to raise awareness for domestic abuse survivors and casualties.