Month: February 2018

Poem: Anger

450px-Schmiedefeuer_2Anger changes nothing. It does not mend
the broken cup or soothe the crying child.
It does not tend crops or fold the laundry

or enclose the wounded with love. Anger
smashes the glass on the tile, dumps the basket,
reduces the lover to tears with a word.

It rips up seedling along with the weeds,
accuses the innocent along with
the guilty, stacking the logs for the pyre.

It intoxicates, a child with matches
drunk on the light, that flare of sulfur-scent,
that wild giddy joy as a world burns down