His Belt

Chubby fingers
traced gently, each weblike pattern,
hot tracks laid haphazardly across
pink flesh.

Standard issue
Royal Air Force garb,
the belt's buckle,
held a clapper, of sorts
which clanged loudly
through each rage.

If you didn't cry
he wasn't forceful enough.
Cry too loudly, you were faking.

Tell on others, you were a tattle tale.
If you didn't, an accomplice.

Lie and you were punished.
Confess and you were punished too.

We learned lessons quickly
when Papa came home from war.
The problem was,
there were always new lessons.

Reviews

[John Anderson]

Very unique poem that was quite enjoyable to read. The ending is very powerful. Well done!

[Lauriegirl]

Excellent choice of wording flows with meaning.

[Patrick]

This is captivating, lyrical and rich in imagery. It has a good, easy flow

[Cory Barrett]

ugh, what an unwanted load to bear. I cannot read this without shaking my head. It's so emotionally captivating, and sad as hell