My mother's mirror

Dorota told me
domestic violence is actually quite intimate
The touching
skin to skin
bone to bone
The throbbing of the heart
thinking it’s never going to end
no way out
The release of the scream
coming from a dry throat
struggling to breathe
Like magnets two bodies smash into each other
making banging sounds that neighbors can hear
In their silence she runs
to hide in the bathroom
Then she turns to the mirror
examines her face
wet, red, crumpling
with only upper teeth showing
like every time she smiles
in front of a camera