Anger is a fire filament
a flame that slashes through
the pain of injustice.
My anger is a rod that keeps me straight,
upright in distress, it’s the scratches on the walls
from broken nails, the marks I’ve left.
Your vengeance is a cage
where you lure the dispossessed
with promises of strength.
It’s all right to hold the edges
smooth around the night
when you took me home forever.
Now we relate every Sunday,
only occasionally slipping into the slipstream
swimming in our current of secret abuse.
I try others on for size
and you wear your girlfriend
like a gabardine raincoat
buttoned tight against living.