NO LESSONS LEARNED.

A WOMAN AND HER CHILDHOOD MEMORIES.

And let that be a lesson to you but
It never was even after the last

Sting of his hand left her she still felt as
If nothing mattered as if it was all

Pretty much a big gamble on death and
Its sting rather than his punishments and

Mother would sit in the corner with her
Knitting and wool and pretend nothing was

Happening or had happened and in the
Background Wally remembered there was the

Gramophone churning out his Wagner those
Big-busted dames pouring out the loud screams

And hollers and she’d sit in her room where
He’d sent her and sit on the bed feeling

The sting of his hand gradually fading
And wondering if he knew she used to

Creep along to their room at night along
The dark passage and listen at the door

As he and Mother did things oh yes did
Things and she’d be crying out stuff and he’d

Be grunting like some pig with truffles and
Wally'd stand there in the dark with her hand

Over her mouth to stop the loud giggles
Bursting and near on peeing herself and

In the dark of her room she’d lie back on
The bed and look up at the ceiling and

See the way the moonlight moved there and made
Patterns moving patterns and as the sting

Of his huge hand on her a*s faded she
Felt the empty sensation of her not

Being loved or loved too weakly too late
Especially by Mother and her darn

Knitting and the wool always red as if
That signified something and Father

With the spanking hand and Wagner sounds still
Wanders into her dreams with his hefty

Steps threatening hand and opera screams.