He’s very good at wooing:

gifts–chocolate cherries,

red roses, delicate lingerie,

I love you.

He wears his mask well,

keeps calm, a handsome spider,

weaving a silken web.

She laughs, tells her friends

just how very special she’s

sure he is.

He wears this mask for months,

finds them the perfect apartment,

swimming pool, gym, marble,

granite, luxury appliances.

She’s sure he loves her:

the gifts, the perfect apartment,

fancy restaurants, luxury weekends.

She’s late, heavy traffic, an

emergency at work. He

screams, wants to know

why; no explanation matters.

He hits her for the first time, her

torso, knocks her down.

Tomorrow 24 red roses

arrive at work. He begs

forgiveness. She’s sure

he’s sorry; it won’t happen

again.

Two months later, she’s

late again. Real reasons he

does not want to hear. He

screams, he hits, he knocks

her down.

She dreads red roses.

Note: This is part of my writing a poem per day for National Poetry Month. Regarding this poem, 34% of female homicides are women who have been killed by intimate male partners. Often when women kill a man attacking them, they are convicted of murder even when trying to defend themselves.