Angry Young Woman

January 22, 2007

I’m so angry with you I can’t breathe.
I can’t see, I can’t sleep.
I’m blind and dizzy and
sleepless with rage-
it’s lodged in my throat like a
tight bundle of
balled up words,
desperate to fight their way free-
so fraught – with electric energy
to sink their frames into your skin,
they’re pounding at the
light membranes of my swallowing,
they’re blowing strangled notes
through the oesophagus, they’re
pouring the violence of salted water
down my boiling cheeks – these words

are like the thin pages
of too small writing –
black marks on white sheets,
layered like petit meue-fille,
coated and sandwiched and
carefully laid throughout my
small intestine.

If you’d let me breathe them out.
If you’d let me sigh them like a
hard screwed valve-
released, a window opened
on a clean square of red flame,
shouting from a burning building-
if you’d just let me speak-

and listen to me, really, really
listen to me, then these words
would stop being so angry.
These words would rush like a river
but finally start to settle
like fine antacid silt. These words
would pour themselves like milk

and we would learn the art of sleep
and touching fingers in the darkness
and grazing cheeks with lips-

please.

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4 Responses to “Angry Young Woman”

  1. lifewords said

    Ahh. “If you’d just.” Wonderfully powerful.

  2. Adagio said

    “Anger always comes from frustrated expectations.” – Elliott Larson

  3. cool blog…good poetry.

  4. whoops!Appears I forgot to answer these comments:

    Lifewords: Thanks:)

    Adagio: As always you are definately too wise!

    Neil: New Person-yay!(do I now have too many explanation marks in one box?;)Thanks for reading me, you’re very kind

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