Civil War

You strode in yesterday armored, snapping the door shut behind you

and dropped your hot stones of indignation into my empty lap.

Uttered pronouncements, never again, not in my presence.

So sure of your solid stance, feet rooted down deep,

Clasped hands scarcely restraining each other

Carefully controlled concrete modulation

Crafted to warn of a simmering core.




Withheld the gift

Of probing for my motives

Chose to color my intentions in scarlet

Cloak me in some old demon’s ill-fitting mask

My meager defense, the truth and flat wall of my back,

Insufficient fortress buffeted by the force of your disapproval.

You departed as suddenly as you had come, a final thwack of closing door

Granting me permission to gather my slain and clear away a lost battle’s rubble.


Photo Credit: stone by mstar mstar on Flickr; used under Creative Commons License.











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