fisted

gathering every quake
		to my leave
		watching the explosion
		from the car.
kicking and cursing a
		still ground
		with angry foot
		a promise: recovered sleep.
night wake of all the crawling
		on kitchen floors
		and raised hands
		threats to my soul.
calm tremble under new eyes
		nightmares now
		coming to a close
		the last empty fist.

06-13-97

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©Denise Angela Celeste