The other barman was grabbing for my arms and
shouting
you bitch you bitch you can’t just –
and I swung for him as well and sort of missed but
with the outer edge of my fist and this big ring that I’d
been wearing hit his teeth – his tooth –
and felt it move,
dislodge I think,
pain at my knuckles,
blood – but his
or mine,
or both?
Really painful, that one –
you fucking bitch, you can’t just –
One was shouting, the other retching,
both had bloody lips and chins,
you can’t – you can’t –
and the bouncer picked me up and
carried me out the fire escape, and boy oh boy oh boy
were there some stars out that night, Ava.
Go home, he said.
Where’s that? I asked but he’d already gone inside and
shut the door.
I sauntered off.
I stopped at the kebab shop.
Ate some chips.
And Ava,
no one came for me
or told me off
or called the police
or even asked me why – not once,
not ever, Ava,
I picked well.
You understand?
Those men were nothing to me –
sacks of flour
to tire my anger out on –
though I think I broke a finger, Ava,
it was trembling, tender, bruised.
I gently slipped it in me – felt the heat and
