He was lyin there, so I… er
Stabbed him. Just the once.
In the stomach. Crashed out
on the sofa he was. After the pub.
He wasn’t asleep. Some nights
he’d pass out but most nights he’d pretend.
Lie there he would, eyes closed.
Burp. Fart, like I wasn’t there.
Eggin me on to say somethin.
And if I did. If ever I did,
you know, say what I thought
He’d be up in a flash.
Because that’s what he wanted
Me to say somethin. Lose my temper.
I’d goaded him, you see. Asked for it.
‘You asked for it,’ he’d say
Afterwards, in bed, me, sobbin.
A fresh bruise on an old swellin.
Not on the face. He never hit me
on the face. Too calculatin.
Always the body. Stomach, kidneys
He used to be one of you, see.
He knew where to hit.
Cold. Always, in control.
But tonight, I took control.
Picked up the breadknife.
He was gettin ready to let one go
I could see that.
The veins in his neck standin out
Throbbin. White against the purple.
Eyes behind closed lids, flickerin
Waitin to jump out on me.
So I… er stabbed him. Just the once.
He farted and screamed at the same time.
I know that sounds funny, but it wasn’t
Not at the time. Not with the blood.
He rolled off of the sofa
Hunched on his knees, holdin the knife.
Not trying to pull it out
Just holdin it. Like keepin it in.
Then he keeled over and that was that.
I put my coat on and came down here
And what I want to know is…
What’s goin to happen to the kids?