Her sparkling shoes,
and dress of white
a princess she felt as she walked
to her smiling groom.
A glance to her father,
looking the other way.
A glance to her mother
whose face was masked
but her tears were not.
It is legal, they said.
————————–
He took her to their home
He took her to his bed,
He took away her girlhood,
in violence and violation,
then shaking, shivering,
torn and terrified,
she curled into a
bloodied ball,
while he smiled.
It is legal, he said.
————————
Her childish body swelled,
and endless work became a trial,
cleaning and cooking,
for a monster for a man.
Whose baby battered her
unfinished frame, and
her face fielded bruises
because she sobbed
and screamed to say, “No!”
It is legal, he said.
——————————
Labouring through days,
her body wracked and torn,
bloody and broken, her
child’s body birthed a boy.
And the fistula created
flooded her with faeces,
revolting him and so he
took the child to cherish
and divorced her to her home.
It is legal, he said.
