What Was Buried By the Tree?

From Kentucky Melodies

The failure of intimacy leads to abuse, but abuse takes many forms, not all of them physically violent. 

What Was Buried By the Tree?

He could see it in his mind's eye. 

An old pin oak shadowing over the bare bones

of brown earth

in the middle of the yard.

He could see her standing motionlessly,

staring out the kitchen window at the spot.

No trace of emotion flicks

across her face,

nor across her soul,

that dubious entity

that in an older culture

acted as

a magic cipher

for what she was.

Her lips are slightly pursed,

the little vertical lines around the mouth

long since permanently engraved by ancient habit. 

Her back is ramrod straight

like a diminutive drill sergeant,

her clothes excessively tidy. 

"Beverly!" demands the cigarette coarse voice in the next room. 

She stands absolutely still, the lines around her mouth deepening slightly. 

"Beverly, dammit!" rasps the voice. 

Her mouth relaxes. 

She smiles slightly and picks up a china saucer and

holds it at arm’s length over the sink.

"Beverly, dammit, answer when I call you!"

She lets the saucer drop.

It hits the empty sink with a tremendous crash and

fragments into a thousand pieces. 

"Beverly, What the hell ? . . ," 

The sound is lost

in the roar of the garbage disposal

as she sweeps the pieces down the drain. 

"Yes, Joe", she says sweetly,

"Did you want something."

What Was Buried By the Tree?

He could see it in his mind's eye. 

An old pin oak shadowing over the bare bones

of brown earth

in the middle of the yard.

He could see her standing motionlessly,

staring out the kitchen window at the spot.

No trace of emotion flicks

across her face,

nor across her soul,

that dubious entity

that in an older culture

acted as

a magic cipher

for what she was.

Her lips are slightly pursed,

the little vertical lines around the mouth

long since permanently engraved by ancient habit. 

Her back is ramrod straight

like a diminutive drill sergeant,

her clothes excessively tidy. 

"Beverly!" demands the cigarette coarse voice in the next room. 

She stands absolutely still, the lines around her mouth deepening slightly. 

"Beverly, dammit!" rasps the voice. 

Her mouth relaxes. 

She smiles slightly and picks up a china saucer and

holds it at arms length over the sink.

"Beverly, dammit, answer when I call you!"

She lets the saucer drop.

It hits the empty sink with a tremendous crash and

fragments into a thousand pieces. 

"Beverly, What the hell ? . . ," 

The sound is lost

in the roar of the garbage disposal

as she sweeps the pieces down the drain. 

"Yes, Joe", she says sweetly,

"Did you want something?"