She picks up the glass, the broken frame,
Seventeen slashes to ease the pain.
He thinks it’s a laugh, just another game,
Pours seventeen vodkas to drown out the rain.

Her face is bruised, she’s missing a tooth,
Seventeen threats to keep the truth.
She goes to the freezer, frozen carrots to soothe,
Seventeen cents to hide the proof.

At the top of the building she’s about to jump,
Seventeen scars and plenty more lumps.
But hand to her stomach, she feels the bump,
Just seventeen weeks, just a few more months.

He “loves her” every day and she hates the wait,
Seventeen days ‘till her baby’s due date.
When the police finally come it’s already too late,
Seventeen minutes to get her in this state.

It’s jail he’ll face for his charged crime,
Seventeen years to pay the fine.
But when he leaves with or without the wine,
Seventeen more deaths after his reduced time.


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Cassandra H. Leung
6/8/06