oh yes, I've seen the way you look at me
through sea-glass dark as pits of mud-torn mire
your heat-struck, jagged ditches lay desire
too plainly, how you want to hear me scream

white flash and glitter sprays across the sky
below the glow of hungry, raging flame—
if these are gifts to sway my heart to cries
of awe and dumbstruck wonder at your name…

there's blight in nitrous splits that must be forced
I cannot tell you why your violence stings
as we’re too old to know these blasted things
except in feelings unexpressed and coarse

you have my soul—why must you have my voice?
if I want silence, silence is my choice

© 2023 Gretchen Tessmer