The Other Cheek

She cursed me so politely That I dare not accuse her of kindness It would be insulting to the Queen of Shade She’s casting shadows and tossing buses Under overpasses I’m busking I’ll take some bittersweet tea With my seven grains of salt crackers I would shoot my response But my aim is off And I taught to protect my stained glass house She’s left bruises on my window pain And her verbal barrage has left me a holey saint For this I thank her, I’ve been baptized by cheap gasoline—- A new bloodied martyr