Guest Poet Melissa D. Benjamin


What will I do when my time
comes to lie split-melon on the 
wet pavement?

When the dice of anger roll 
my number and I am picked 
to suffer this
most intimate of slaughters 
and my screams
are stoppered by empty night,
what will I do?

I have heard the statistics 
and the life-saving tips,
yet when these fail me, I wonder 
if I will go a weeping bride or
a dead one to his rough ministrations -
for find me he will  And I do not know
what I will do.

So I live each chill evening as if 
it will never happen, 
as if he was behind every scant bush 
and hard steel car 
waiting for me -
I walk as if I fear nothing, 
my hand in my pocket holding my knife.  
I live my twilight life 
knowing only that when 
my turn comes 
I will carve my revenge in his ribs 
and hard cheeks as he forces 
his anger 
on my tender flesh.

January, 1999

Melissa D. Benjamin's Questions:

Is the imagry in this piece strong enough? 

Too strong?

Do the lines breaks make sense?

Correspond with Melissa D. Benjamin at
with your ideas about this poem.

The Albany Poetry Workshop