Don’t  say anything.

Don’t say one word

she’s angry inside

bursting forth.

A living volcano

spewing pumice of

words

like rocks on fire

hitting you

in a life and death

onfrontation at your

mature age

where most of loving folk

retire.

To keep the peace I’ll rather

dress and when I miss the bus

I’ll rather walk along the brook

to catch the one to the subway

not minding the thirty minute

walk to reach it.

Don’t say a word

just walk and let my feet digest

all poisoned arrows

that wounded them with

sudden impact.

 

zoltanzelan

©ZJG-Poetry’16.