mum helped me move the furniture/ as if the
dressing table against the door could keep him
out/ he was asleep drunk/ i was a kid that says
'sorry' when being hit/ i cried when my brothers
were hit by my mother/ each of them running into
their rooms & lying on their purple bedspreads
kicking their legs into the air/ it was always some
one's turn/ the various weapons: canes, fly-swats,
sticks from the side trellis (mum said 'i never used
the ones with the nails sticking out') dog chains &
leather leashes stored on top of the fridge/ dale
always yelled out 'not the buckle mum' to remind
her of boundaries/ & his high pitched scream hit
the ceiling if the steel buckle accidentally got him/
i heard my father's footsteps down the hallway/
mum helped me with the dressing table barricade
to be on the safe side/ the night before i had to
leave home/ when dad knocks me down he says
'i only just tapped you that time'/ & like other
children have done for generations/ i hit the floor
saying 'sorry'/ on television there was the boy
who said 'sorry' to the serial killer/ as he died he
asked for the killer's forgiveness/ the surge of
power inside the killer/ the god given gift of
adult life over death/ he told the current affairs
reporter that he was sexually assaulting two boys
aged ten both with their pants down/ one ran
away & he chased him, caught him & as he
stabbed him the boy said 'sorry'/ i heard the
confessions of the child serial killer/ as usual he
could have been the man next door, the n.r.m.a.
service man, the butcher, the woolworths manager/
in this case he was a bank clerk/ he hung the child
in his wardrobe & then he went to work/ later on
death row the killer tells the viewer he is sorry/
while we eat our dinner in our loungerooms/ he
is electrocuted/ this is so we can sleep easily
