The day 8 prompt at Poetic Asides was “write a dare poem.” That’s such an enticing prompt, I may have to revisit it later for further inspiration. This was my current poem:
OWNING THE DARE
She dared him to hit her.
If she’d said it once, the moment
might have passed, but she repeated
the taunt again and again
until some restraint broke in him,
and he slapped her across the jaw.
Later, cradling her ice pack,
she wondered why she’d egged him on.
No, she hadn’t wanted it. She wasn’t
like that. And, no, she didn’t blame him
exactly, but maybe part of her
had wanted to know if he was capable of it,
of raising his hand to her, to anyone
either smaller or bigger than him. In a way,
she hated herself for pushing him that far,
but it helped to know a person’s limits,
her own as well as his. Later,
when he tried to apologize,
she shrugged it off, and they moved on.
Neither did she apologize to him,
although she partially blamed herself,
but only a little. He needed to learn
when to walk out of a room. As for
her, she now appreciated the necessity
of being picky when choosing battles
and considering their consequences.
The bruise on her jaw, and its memory,
would keep that lesson fresh.