a poem called the watcher

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: January 13, 2012

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Submitted: January 13, 2012



the watcher


when she gets home

after working a ten hour shift

he is sitting in a chair in the living room waiting for


on one hand he wears a white glove

it is still clean,

and he smiles at her,

telling her that she has passed the “glove test” once


yes, she was able to dust the rooms so thoroughly

that when he traced the corners & all the nooks &


not a smidgeon got on his pristine white glove---

she did well,

and this is the man she swore to live the rest of her life



she is told to make dinner &

the dinner she makes for him & the baby is different

than the one

she is told to make for herself---

his, bears flavor & taste,

making nourishment a joy---

hers, is all part of his “strategy”

to make her thinner,

to make her look like she did before the baby,

to make her appealing to him once again &

she follows his “program”

because he hasn’t touched her in a year---

she hopes that if she gets thin enough,

that he will.


she is permitted exactly four hours of sleep a night,

because she has to be up early to take care of the


as well as make his breakfast &

her breakfast---

if she coughs, kicks, or even makes a sound while she

is sleeping

in the same bed with her,

he tells her to get out of bed

until she can sleep right,

“like a normal person.”


he came from a strong christian background

which is one of the main reasons she found comfort in

his presence

after a ballistic first marriage that

did not produce a child,

and therefore, as far as she is concerned,

did not produce a reason for her to stay---

having given birth to his son,

she knows that there is no way out,

for her own family,

her church & all the community that she

functions in,

would cast her out into “hellfire,”

if she believed any different.


and she remembers the night that he told her

that after his son turned 18

that he didn’t care what she did,

that “she would be free,”

but that he would never give her a divorce---

he would never allow her to escape the feeling of

psychological possession.


all the while,

the watcher learns how to be a man---

at age two and some months now,

the little boy sees how his mother is treated,

he sees how his father treats her &

in these precious, vital

formative years,

the mold has been made---


there will be another.

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