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Funny How Much Sorrow Looks Like Anger
by Kirtland Snyder
Funny how much sorrow looks like anger –
Indignation strutting and fretting in the place of heartbreak.
How I fought my mother tooth and nail – my mother –
Grappled with her, mano a mano, threw her to the floor.
I was maybe three when she first excoriated me,
Assumed the worst of me, made me feel a worthless thing.
She went at me at four, at five, at six and at seven –
The age of reason when my wits came in, and my fangs,
And with them my first taste of savagery, the beginning
Of my blood lust, my counter-predation on women.
I would not shy from a fight when she offered one,
Which was every night.
I was just a kid, a little kid and then a bigger kid, a young boy
Longing to be held and made to feel loved.
But my heart was the last thing I could reveal, the very last thing.
It was my heart, that most vulnerable of vital organs
Whose flesh is prized by the most discerning of carnivores. |
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