Until the Worm Turned.

Emotive core pierced, star-smitten, 
dwelt for a time in the land of the kitten,
heart flushed by a secret smile-
special reserve for me,
soul blitzed...beguiled...
until...
fear fueled years of crude baiting,
bruise waiting,
terrified to laugh or smile,
a permanent fool in flight
from a bastard’s abusing mix of bile.
Holy Church wedding vows systematically smoked
to barren ash, grey.
Devotion to honour and obey,
long revoked.
Took the compulsory one to ten counts
 on the designer tiled floor,
threw in the tea-towel, could not dive anymore.
Learned to bob and weave like Cassius Clay...
bouts started at closing time every Smirnoff sponsored day.
Friday the Thirteenth, eleven-thirty eliminator,
in front of the aghast aga 
with a booze-brained spouse impersonator...
dark drink demon in his addled corner.
Mick Microwave bell pings, 
mad jabs reign.
China cockerel ducks, clucks from his roost and flies...
Bulls-eye! Splat! 
Red sears weep along my thigh.
Swiss clock couple cover their eyes.
I hedgehog ball while the Bruce Lee kicks home in,
slip-slide to vain refuge behind the bin.
Both eyes inflame... cannot blink.
Open the unit while he wretches the sink.
Gay window blooms wilt in timorous dread,
their Dutch Blue porcelain home launched right at my head.
Crawl in the cupboard, throw out the pans,
slam fast the doors on grappling hands.
Concealed Tibbles mews behind the spice rack,
paw pushes a long forgotten Xmas pack...
a super-sharp, Sheffield Steel, carvery set,
mum won on a Blackpool prize bingo bet.
Sanctuary’s screen exploded off... 
Prepared for the last goodnight,
the cat went for his left leg, I took his right.
Cracked his skull on the worktop edge,
hit by a bazooka of organic veg.
Came back at us, careering, full tilt,
We thrusted with Turkey Knives, 
in to the hilt.
Arterial gashes six inches wide
out...our love poured...
in a crimson tide.
Fly...fly...follow that starlight,
a sad soul’s first choice..
hear a distant, calming, beautiful voice.
‘Be O. K. my lovely... nothing to fear,
I’ve called in the Coppers, soon be right here.’
Godsend old Alice with her glass on the wall,
used the spare key, came down the hall.
Knocked back from the bright, Tibbs nuzzles my ear,
and as for that shit...
he’s necked his last beer.