For Love by Taylor Edmonds

The third time your partner hit you your grandmother

ran you a hot bath, lavender. Rubbed

bath salts on the broken skin of your wound

with wrinkled hands, her veins blue snakes

coiling under the skin.

 ..

Your grandmother drank black tea from a porcelain

mug with a chip bitten into the curve of the handle.

The first thing your grandfather ever gave to me.

She holds the rough of her palm to her heart

when she talks about him.

 ..

You tell your grandmother you want to run away.

When she holds up the cotton of her night-top.

Runs a hand across the burn scar that blooms

across her stomach, all purple-yellow, all red-pink.

We all suffer under the hand of those we love.

 ..

The next morning you leave for Venice, or Toulouse

or Rome. A woman with flames

clawing at her stomach burns

behind your eyes.

3 thoughts on “For Love by Taylor Edmonds

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