Time Spent in Doorways
I bite back images
of staggering into midnight,
intoxicated and burned by rage,
a gift from my abusers.
Eyeless, it flies like a blade
through my memory.
My hands are fierce and stained
with the stigmata of bitterness and indignation.
I remember your fingers firm against my throat,
forcing me backwards into the crowd.
Spurned by the flicker of violence,
I strike your cruel lips,
coil back with shame and run.
Drunk and stumbling, the icy pavement
tears holes into my fishnets and the
twisting street leads me to collapse in
the doorway of an abandoned coffee shop.
I lay sprawled at the feet
of an unforgiving night,
drenched in the smell of fury and
covered with city soot.
Susan Richardson is living, writing and going blind in
Hollywood. Much of her work focuses on her experiences as a
partially sighted woman in a sprawling urban environment. Her
work has been published in Free Lunch, The Old Red Kimono,
Stepping Stones, Wildflower Muse, The Furious Gazelle, The
Hungry Chimera and Sheila – Na- Gig. In addition to poetry and
creative non-fiction, she writes a blog called “Stories from the
Edge of Blindness”.