How temper fits
by Rachel Thompson
[ poetry - march 09 ]
the ooze of you
enters the room and light is sapped
by three prongs of your anger
the dull wall
flakes ash and mould
to the dirt floor
the vapours around you
condense like rain
and fall
forming grey residue
painting everything
you push at me
your rough tongue
your wilderness you
feral, flapping your wings
lovely child
