Season of the Witch

 You'd raised your voice
 from a whisper.

 Just enough to release
 that final drop of anger.
 Just enough to push him
 over the edge of his seat.

 You'd never invite this scorn
 this disregard, this violence.

 But you have it coming anyway.
 He's sniffed out your weakness,
 your difference; and he'll
 keep hitting the soft spot

 where you're still a woman
 (less than human)
 and if you return his curse
 he'll call you "witch."

 Like that's a bad thing.