Spawning Salmon

My body, my choice.
your seed left me, and your fists
began to find home
in my chest.

Like salmon beating
against a steadfast current,
your violence cycled horror
an inch at a time
When I finally
believed you would kill me,
I left.
I was 17.

The only other people who knew
were the boys in the other room
when you pummeled me.

I screamed for their help
and they listened,

but that’s all they did.

My body, my choice.

Brenda Warren 2013

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7 thoughts on “Spawning Salmon

  1. Brenda your powerful writing pounds the history straight to my heart and sympathy. I applaud your courage in writing about it.

    Wouldn’t a meeting be wonderful? Oceans and continents separating us would make it difficult = travel exhausts me these days. Perhaps we could so a Skype video conference?

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    • Thank you, Viv. Meeting you would make my spirit smile on such a deep level. We could all come to France. 😉 Although that visit would have to be at least two years down the road for me.

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  2. I applaud your courage in leaving this situation and in writing so powerfully about it. Shame on the boys next door. You’ve told this in a way that draws a reader in yet, avoids being overly emotional or maudlin. That takes skill and self-disciplne, and distance from the situation. I hope your life has much improved after this hard beginning.

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