His bulk gorged with beer and bragging could not suck anymore out of me
than the tiny bit of blood that oozed from my lip.
What blood did gush was my own woman's blood
that flowed month after month, year after year,
for these twenty-three years with no break,
with no child to show for all the pain and fluid—
the very proof that Theo was no man, was no husband, but a soldered off old bull
good only for pulling the plow and teasing the cows to distraction.