Rage

Rage

Quiet disquiet deep in the pit of my stomach.

My face is stone, my voice is level

but I feel the trembling circuits

sparking on the insides of my elbows.

My hands feel empty, weightless.

An easy uneasiness that makes

my stomach feel queasy and sick.

My hands want to clasp

the weight of a punch

My lips want to form

the words that will cut

deep to bone.

I want to hurt- and because it is against my nature-

it hurts me instead.

authors note: It is really against my nature to be angry. You probably wouldn't guess it from some of the poems I have posted, but poetry really is an outlet for me so that I am NOT angry in my real life. This little number was written back in 2008 when I was working as an ISS supervisor in MT. There was this one kid who knew just what buttons to push and he took such delight in pushing them. Fortunately, with a few calming breaths and this poem, he escaped with his life and very little visual reaction from yours truly.