5 minutes in Woolies

What a luxury it must be, to stand so tall

and protest, that you love that little girl,

when you’ve never had to pick yourself up

and make it fun,

had to wipe your tears

then make it fun

or decorate a cake,

when you’ve been cut down

to nothing.

you’ve never had to clean

to avoid sitting

so you made it fun,

until you were both a maid and a punching bag.

you’ve never been kicked out in the night and told your child to close her eyes

to make it fun, like a game,

so she doesn’t see her Mum being destroyed.

What a luxury that you didn’t have to

take your daughter on ‘holidays’

to make it fun,

when you haven’t slept for months without fear,

when the phone was ringing until it wasn’t.

Count yourself lucky,

that you’ve never had to climb through windows to find someone unconscious so often,

that you left the fly wire down permanently

as your daughter sat on the front step with a lollipop,

to make it fun.

Be thankful,

that you never had a woman try and mutilate everything in you

and still be considered fun,

a larrikin at the bar,

a monster in the morning,

sycophants and monkeys telling you how lucky you must be

that your beloved is just so fuckin fun