Bronze

They shot us down,
scattering like birds;
the Harridan moved
us in the wrong
direction, and rubbed our
faces in gravel,
like we are part of it.

But. You could have done more.

Feeling too special
already, barely sane,
by the only award
tickling my jutting
funny bone on the
island, sitting languidly.
And as one would say,

You could have done more.

So guiltlessly, the guilt-
tiger pounced upon me,
tearing my innards
into fragments,
of the words,
like a banshee
singing softly shocking songs,

You could have done more.

No one sees how they tame
a circus, the menagerie
become august,
as the trying times,
licks at them, and pecks
like flames, not a yen
to stay emaciated.

You could have done more.
Preaching to the choir here, baby.

Harridan - The one with the baton

cuRRent...jer  ¶ 11:15 pm