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Ancient Chinese Women Prisoners

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I wrote a little piece about this scene

Chinese Punishment

Chinese Punishment.png

Each night the girls who've earned the highest number of Punishment Points
are told we must report to the Punishment Yard at dawn.
The Punishment Yard! We've seen it on our way out to labour in the fields,
at the far corner of the Re-education Camp, a bleak, high concrete wall with a heavy iron gate.
And we've heard the shrieks and cries, like demented seagulls.
And we've seen the bleeding bottoms of the girls who've been punished ...
and today it's my turn ...
Just me and Mi Ling.

We wait outside the iron gate, shivering in the cold light of dawn,
not daring to speak. The wait seems endless, at last a key turns in the lock,
our bodies stiffen. We walk in, heads bowed.
All I see are posts, and a bin holding several thick bamboo canes.

"脱衣服！Tuō yīfú!"

We quickly strip off our light prison tunics that hardly cover our behinds,
the coarse g-strings, cheap sandals. Don't try to hide ourselves,
no use worrying about modesty. He's looking at us,
our bodies, up and down.

"手腕！Shǒuwàn!"

We hold out our wrists, still not daring to look him in the eye.
Rough ropes are tied tight. He nods at Mi Ling.

"你先！Nǐ xiān!"

Ling steps forward she's sniffing, trying not to cry.
Her bound wrists are tied to the nearest post,
quite low, so she has to bend.

I don't want to watch, but I know I must.
Stand firm, legs wide, my bound wrists behind my head,
the way we girls have to stand for Inspection.
My breasts are quivering, sweating with terror.

The savagery is shocking, the brute swipes the youngster,
barely half his height and a quarter of his weight,
as if he's intending to butcher her.

He doesn't hurry, pausing between blows,
while the girl squirms and struggles,
knowing she must keep up on her feet,
squealing at every slash of the cane,
howling as the pain fills here shaking trunk,
lapsing into sobbing while he fetches a fresh cane,
makes sure she's lined up for the next stroke...

Twenty Punishment Points is Mi Ling's tariff -
I know I've got twenty-four.
I watch her skin redden, deep crimson stripes,
spreading black bruises, cover her whole pert buttocks,
my loins quiver, anticipating how it will feel ...

At last, poor Mi Ling's Punishment is ended,
he flicks loose the knotted rope from her wrist,
grabs her and swings her round, flings her across the floor,
she lies, shaking, sobbing

a pattern of spots of blood spatters the floor
like little crimson flowers. Needing no orders
I step across them in my bare feet,
turn to the post and hold out my wrists,
ready to be tied ...

I grip the post, I feel his hand as he steadies my hips,
preparing his target ...

the whoosh of the cane ...
 
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