It’s not much, but it is home,

the place she lives

with the man she chose.

He keeps her in her place

with the weight of his thumb.

Her place is wherever

he wants it to be.

She wriggles and writhes

but never really tries

to escape. She knows her place.

She shows her daughter

so that she will understand

her own place.

She does not know

she is preaching to the subverted.

One day the stains tell her

that someone has taken her place,

someone bloody, young.

Her husband laughs in her face.

That night, she widens his smile,

from ear to ear, sees him dying,

lying in the bed she made,

staining the place they sleep.

She weeps at what it cost.

She has lost her place.

What would you do

in her place?