Your boy once touched me, yes. I knew you knew
when your wet, reddened gaze drilled into me,
groped through my clothes for signs, some residue
of him-some lusciousness of mine that he
had craved, that might have driven his desire
for things perilous, poisonous, out-of-bounds.
Could I have been the beast he rode to war?
The battle mounted in his sleep, the rounds
of ammunition draped like unblown blossoms
round his neck? Could I have somehow flung
myself against the wall of his obsessions,
leaving spells and curses on his tongue?
Your fingers tighten, ready to engage
the delicate hair-trigger of your rage.
(Marilyn L. Taylor)
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Based on Topics: War & Peace Poems, Sleep Poems, Anger Poems, Sign & Symbol PoemsBased on Keywords: residue, drilled, unblown, ammunition, reddened, tighten, lusciousness, obsessions, him-some, hair-trigger