Treads

Before I took a shoe to the face
there was fire in a bowl, ritual oath
no man will hurt me again

If only women could voice our fiercest wishes
and have them come true

Instead I wore the treads of a rubber sole
across my lips and cheeks,
tears tracking in that bumpy trail

Let us not speak of the next morning
when I woke up safe but shook anyway

There are wishes, memory and reality.
The hills and valleys painted on my face
exist as a map for all three

so I stopped silencing my bruises,
searching for the faces which were not turned away

I made no grand discovery
other than in the mirror
when my reflection made her wish with her eyes.