Now Wash Your Hands

Take a final drag from your cigarette,

Before you let the bitch have it.

Summon the strength, the necessary power

To do the job. Kick down her door.


Think of your anger, rising within.

Make her the cause of all your pain.

Look at her snivelling, sneering expression.

Tonight you’re going to teach her a lesson


She’ll never forget. Concentrate.

Force her to look at you square in the face.

Next on the cheek you once gently kissed,

Accurately plant your fist.


Pull her towards you by the roots of her hair.

If she is screaming then do not hear.

See how her blood turns your hands red,

How strands of her hair stick to the blood.


Throw her down, onto the floor.

This is all she was ever good for.

Kick her, hard, in the small of her back

Till her body goes limp as if she’d been fucked.


Step back for a moment. Check she’s not dead.

Go in for one last punch in the head.

Ask her if this time she understands

Who’s boss. Now wash your hands.

Photo: Alice In Graffiti Land by Caroline Hagood

4 responses to this post.

  1. I put your photo with my poem in the end, Caroline. They seemed to fit, though your photo is more hopeful than the poem. It alleviates the grimness…

    Cities can be great open landscapes, or tiny confined spaces. I have experienced them as both and your photo evokes that contrast perfectly.


  2. Posted by Elliott DeLine on January 30, 2011 at 12:52 am

    A painful, grimy-grim poem… not sure it could (should) be alleviated. That is by no means an insult to either artist. “I enjoyed it” seems inappropriate… but I did.


    • Thanks Elliott.

      It’s odd- I put this poem on a ‘kink’ website once, and one or two people reacted to it as if it was ‘porn’. with comments like -‘hmm, hot!’ Which surprised me at the time. These things are often about context I guess.


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