Neighbour
5 in the morning, Why
do you keep at it? Howl-
ing and wail-ing, the wall
cries out in fear as
you press your weight
into it.
Heavy, heaved breaths
as it pulls inwards,
afraid for its cracked fate.
I sit and stare, a loaded
gun
inside the room.
Should I? Why
do I bother.
My door is kicked in
and he stood there,
a picture of red, red
vengeance. El Diablo--
is this a dream? He
is chest-bare,
nothing to hide
his eyes’ hate. I
hear his heart wind up--
inside, Memory tastes his pulse.
The wall creaks and is
curious, rises pridefully
and cowers all at once.
There are no words
to baptize hatred,
not the child I saw
beneath his skin.
It crawled, like a worm,
slithered out his heart
and up up up
into me, the croaking wall
a silent witness
to all. I sit
and stare and sin(g)
a thousand stars' choir of rage.
Copyright © Jordan Ankara | Year Posted 2023
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment