The Accident

It was an accident, she says
I didn't mean to, honest.
I count to ten. I promise myself
This will be the time I keep control.
The shattered porcelain bowl litters the floor,
Jagged edges dangerous against toes
Her cheeks are flaming pink.
A pouting lower lip, I close my eyes
And think.
The heat in my throat makes me cringe
And I shout. She backs towards the door,
I slam it shut, bunch her clothes
In my fist, and pray
For the strength to stop.
My breathing is ragged, hers shallow
I bow my head to my rage,
And make her walk on the shards
Of the accident.
Tomorrow I'll turn the page.