Boxing Day

The policeman on the doorstep,
holding a clipboard,
asked if we’d heard anything last night.

There’d been a ‘domestic’ just up the road .
A domestic that turned ‘sour.’

‘Fisticuffs?’

‘Worse.'

Must have been
after we’d gone to bed.

We heard nothing.
Picked up no signals
that anything was wrong.

‘Merry Christmas.’