Coming in the back door

like you could wait politely at the front one.

Coming in the back door

like survival was a party, you’re just not invited.

Yet in all this facelessness

there is the coming from;

coming from a landscape in shadow

where rape is tactical, procedural, political

hold the daughter still

plant your flag in that dark place,

force the life out of her eyes until she

is pregnant with the violence of it.

Let despair grow round

and firm and hungry.

We say; the welcome mat,

red carpet, flood gates open

when all you see is light

from darkness

a door ajar