|
|
From the Loading Bench (Free verse) by Lenore
I think you do want to talk about it.
Now cocked, chamber filled with fired brass;
The pressure bent upon escape.
Can you see the past coursing out?
purged of every,
vile
rotting
stinking
scat-encrusted
festering
internal wound.
Could you stand then?
inane,
deflated
drained
void
vacant---
Hollow.
And the sear holds on,
silently,
but presently
gathering force and fury.
Would you have enough to bear without?
anguish
shame
oppression
contrition
obstruction
vermifuge.
If you stood to-day where you once stood,
would you not remain here dumb and un asking?
suspicion
ire
chafe
gnash
embitter
wrought
One click---
squarely on target;
you never missed.
Back to poem details
|