Member-only story
Poetry
Reining in My Anger
A poem in prime-numbered lines
I bent
and picked up
body pieces as I strode
across the scorched globe skipping over rubble
swiping drones like flies from my face and gluing body fragments
together with screams and tears, wet enough to hold the limbs in place;
and then exchanged arms for machine guns and hands for grenades
skulls for bombs to explode with precision
and wielding weaponry, I turned
inwards and faced
my anger.
I cannot resist the pull of a challenge especially when it goes like this:
2,3,5,7,11,13,11,7,5,3,2
Thank you Nikolaos Skordilis, for the inspiration.