Starts with a fire
in hear head.
Screws her temples
Spiders her eyes red
feet, sandbags
planted
knuckles knotted
eager to beat plaster-
drywall-concrete.
Knuckles begging for
a bruising, to shoot
the anger out
Spiderman style.
Desperate to drown
the siren’s call
“you-ain't-worth-shit-
can’t-do-nothing-right”
agitating the flames,
body al dente.
If only she could draw
blood, tiny tears on her fist,
a-la Dr. David Banner,
she’d do no harm.
Steam curling nose hairs
Controlled breathing
directs out of control
thoughts. Anxiety
of not being loved
greater than potential
pain. Controlling condition
latent for the day.
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2 comments:
Hey Claudia, this is an evocative poem. I kinda felt like a superhero after reading it. Keep up the good work, C.
Thanks for the words of encouragement. I wrote it thinking about how so many times, I/we, look outside of ourselves for strength or wish we had super human abilities to deal with our daily crap.
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