i had a house
and a job
and i could take a punch.

thought it was enough
until it occurred
a rose in snow, the
blood on the floor
and i knew
he might not kill me
but i couldn’t take the
chance.

now i’ve got a job
minimum, yeah, and
i drink a lot of it.

the apartment’s small
but it’s mine
and the man
i moved in with
is off the lease.
which means
i threw the lifejacket
away. but i don’t
drown.
much.

at night
when i wake
in a cold sweat
wondering
if i waxed the kitchen
floor good enough
or if he was going
to be in a mood
coming home
i see the nightlight

la Virgin in her blue robe
smiling.

and it only
takes a shot or two
to get back to sleep.

yeah, it’s better.
the most i can expect.