He calls for her in the night
From his place on the kitchen floor,
Broken bottles scattered about his feet,
He picks up a piece of one,
Holds it loosely in his closed hand.
She comes to him reluctantly,
Her footsteps whispers on hardwood.
He tells her to sit with him,
Amongst his shattered discards,
She lowers herself, silencing protests.
His hand brushes her leg,
Beckons her to come closer.
She swallows her fear, glancing back
In the room she'd left is her life,
Her joy in this nightmare of a house,
There is a wooden crib,
A small boy stirring inside it.
She's almost lost her boy once.  
She moves closer to the man,
Her body trembling with knowledge
Of what comes with their closeness.
His hand moves up her nightgown,
Grazes the marks he left before,
He was fond of leaving them there
Beleiving it claimed his territory.
She shakes, gives him her body
Only hoping it stops his anger,
That she can protect her baby
If only for one more night.