Saturday, January 12, 2013

The Rage

The Rage entered me in sleep and found my bones,
sailing through my ears on the back of a dream, like a rat
sheltered from sight by the roar of waves.
I turned a little in the sheets.
It scampered up my spine, and sat, and grew,
and when I woke there was a lion in my brain,
crouching at the base of it.
I brushed my teeth.  
I started the car. I swear I heard a sound
like a big cat’s purr, or an empty stomach’s growl,
but the mind plays tricks.
The Rage paced
and paced.
I flipped on the computer and the lights.
Then footsteps, a Good morning, the blinding whiteness
of teeth as the lion made a monster out of me
and glutted himself on those screams.