Sometimes women of violent men learn
To wear themselves softless, to

Turn their tongues into blood sports.

Today the dog
Was screaming her again: tapping,
Yapping, fucking against her shoe -

Its eyes the same brown as his whore: the one
He used to go to every other Sunday, the one who lived deep in the hills

Until the day she dared come to the castle
And he cast her away. He turned her into an exhibition of a girl. The casualness
Of his brutality made Regan’s magnet mouth break in open delight,

Made her love him once again.

The dog itself finally slunk away in wounded shock,
Low to the ground, still whining beneath its throat.