I look at her face
Into the eyes in her face
That look in the eyes in her face
That look that tells me a memory stirred
That something I said
What I said
Jumped from my tongue
Off my tongue and over my teeth
Passed through my teeth
And she winced when it hit the air
Winced in her eyes
Winced without moving her face
Winced in her breath
I can see in the gloss of her eyes
That I have said something to remind
A beaten dog
That she is a beaten dog
And seeing that sight beats hard in my ribs
Brings a shame to me as if I had held the stick or the bottle
Or the fist or the belt or the back of the hand

and I hate them both for it.