this revolving doorway

through the muted sounds of the tv
filtered within the flashing brights of white
into a room with all the lights off
i hear the car doors pop
outside
the drive
the stumbling cursing of looking for the right key
the one that opens the right lock
then the knock
halfawake and fumbling
i see him all bloody and halfcocked
the porch lamp’s out
scuffed knuckles: black eye
from under an ice pack
the getting even point
when i collasped into the asphalt
almost home
trying to run out an unacknowledged illness
and he scooped me up—carried me inside
put me to bed
in my front hallway
he stammers something from beneath swollen lips
that sounds remotely like an apology
but i don’t offer a word
my investment
this open door is not
an entry-way into my life
a silence that says
leave me out of it
he does
retreats
clutching my bottle of aspirin
i lock the door
wondering how these situations find me
how i can’t ever seem to find anything in which to believe
how i’ll ever get to sleep