Both Terry Bull and girlfriend Mad Donna
Feel very full to nerve ends of great love.
This miracle I certainly honour,
By bellyfuls of hurtful punches proved.
He hits her in the morning, his first move.
He hits her while he’s yawning, late at night.
He hates violence, but warns he won’t approve
Her taste in friends. Her unborn child feels fright.
Her son, but not his, recently turned eight,
Lonesome, forgotten, frequently on a
Mission to rot upstairs, sent with a shove,
Listens to rock, indecent words of hate.
Headphones on full blast, he starts to answer
Questions. He’ll kill them fast. They’ll be removed.
Thur 24 May 2007
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