Territory

There was a silence sliced by a swift punch
that sent his blood everywhere
and my sister said she couldn't help
but get caught up in this red tornado
sending me a flurry of messages
it seemed like she was in a forest
darting around frantically
and I couldn't see if she was ok
or if she was
mortally wounded.

And I remembered a few years ago
another punch that sliced the silence
of a bar on Valentine's Day
when the bartender
had cracked a joke saying
"isn't she a little too young to be in a bar?"
His joke only landed inside the
hot coals of my step-father's anger
so they could simmer and smolder
and eventually explode-
heavy breathing,
a loud crack,
raw pain bursting out like a blue and green fire cracker-
hit the pavement running.

Keep running and running
and I'm back in the wedding
slowly walking up the aisle
to witness my mother
in a peach dress and
a black and blue eye
the vivid colors staining
hidden parts of my memory
so I can't forget them
instead they spill out
just as violently as they
were forced in.

And in the shadows of my mind
I can feel a beast stirring-
him, a father, a boyfriend, a stranger
(this isn't about love, it's about territory)
crouched and waiting
like a wild animal
for a chance to
take it all back.