Anger

Hidden Curses


Beyond the grasp
too tender, delicate, fragile
like spiders’ legs, or dragonfly wings
but there nonetheless
this tangible ache.

Or is it pain?
I can't tell the difference
but I know it's there
and it hurts, or it would
if I could step out of the glue
of this numbness.

Put it into words, you said
but modesty forbids
--the manners I was taught.

And yes
there is a perfect word for it
hanging there
waiting for me to grasp it
and sling it at you
with all the force of that stone
from David's slingshot.

Maybe I'm not sure I trust my aim
or maybe I am still afraid
of letting you see the evil
the terrible, X-Rated vileness
that lives inside me
now that your betrayal ripped me apart.

Or perhaps I understand now
that eventually
hurt will pass wraithlike
and leave nothing in its place
but regret.