Flogged by King George

Her hands are rubbed raw

from scrubbing the stench of salty flesh

And staining scarlet

from the King's stiff and scratchy Redcoat.

He owned a fetching face

now sharp and gaunt, stained terrifically with tears.

Shako and Bayonet splattered with blood

Knee deep in rivers of it

To match his coat.

Her fingers, with tender and cool memories

of moulding and kneading his back,

now shudder and tremble

And resist urges to trace the scars.