You make your anger your song.

But the bitch on the road –
dirty and flea bitten
is more honest than you are.
She snarls and whimpers –
the bite glows in her eyes.
Rabid madness cannot lie.
She sinks her teeth into
the soft rubbery flesh without
singing about it.


5 thoughts on “Bitch.

  1. Good luck with the play.

    I want to ask you how you came up with the image of the bite glowing in the bitch’s eyes. Is there one moment that inspired you to enunciate like that? A spectacular bite that you yourself delivered perhaps?

    Well, actually this poem started in a very different place, about something very different. Always wished I would, but never have.

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