you locked it up
every inch of black and blue
stuffed into a bottle
mean and smokey
smoldering until it devoured
every atom of oxygen  

the bottle was
left for the milkman
hoping he would take it
leave you a quart
of fresh sweet cream
it stayed right where you left it  

give it a name
if you’re going to bury it
write it in the mud with your fingers
so the rain can carry
it down to the river  

give it a voice
scream it into the air
smash it into the earth
carve it on your hand
so that you know it
when it crawls back to you