Anger
There’s a seed stuck in my throat
In the folds that create my words
I’ve tried to cough and gag and pry it out
But all I can do is choke
I think it will stay there
It likes the dark
And the wet
Maybe it will grow
Split open into something new
Maybe it will sprout so wide
My tongue will pop out
And as the leaves knock against my teeth
I will drink sugar water
For it to shoot up through my nose
So it will consume me
And we will become one
And all I will know
Is peace
3 thoughts on "Anger"
Leave a Reply
You must be logged in to post a comment.
Wow! Captivating right from the start
powerful poem reminiscent of Blake’s
A Poison Tree
I was angry with my friend;
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe:
I told it not, my wrath did grow.
And I waterd it in fears,
Night & morning with my tears:
And I sunned it with smiles,
And with soft deceitful wiles.
And it grew both day and night.
Till it bore an apple bright.
And my foe beheld it shine,
And he knew that it was mine.
And into my garden stole,
When the night had veild the pole;
In the morning glad I see;
My foe outstretched beneath the tree.
Wonderful piece!
“In the folds that create my words” – really nice.