A Pinch Point

by Janna Rollins

We’re at a pinch point, she told him

As he staggered through the gate.

She tipped the chair back with her foot―

Then rocking, rocking, rocking.

I’m not living like this anymore, she calmly said

As he lifted the bottle to his lips.

She picked up a green bean from the bowl she held―

Then snapping, snapping, snapping.

One of us has got to go, she stated

As he stomped up the porch steps.

She stood, knocking the beans from her lap―

Then the bowl clattering, clattering, clattering.

And it’s not going to be me, she declared

As he raised his fist one more time.

She pulled a gun from her apron pocket―

Then shooting, shooting, shooting.

There was a time when I loved you, she told him

As he lay dying.

She knelt by his side―

Then sobbing, sobbing, sobbing.

No one would blame me, she whispered

As she drug him through the woods.

She reached for the shovel―

Then digging, digging, digging.

We’re safe now, she crooned to the baby in the crib

As her daddy lay under a blanket of dirt and leaves.

She filled a bucket with water and lye soap―

Then scrubbing, scrubbing, scrubbing.