flaming jewels

i do bite my thumb at you, sir

the sheer clothing of gentleness
is a fine, stain-resistant
weave

but even after rude spills
dry and inky spots
fade

the feel of damp cloth
clinging to my skin
remains

***

i have a drape of velvet rage
that has never seen
the light of day

its dusty newness lies
undisturbed
like a spinster's hope chest

the time has long since passed
when i could have learned
to wear

the stiff garments
of anger
with ease and grace

but on rare occasions
when i'm alone
i strip

crouch, naked

(a curse moving
across my lips
like silk)

and finger
the rich fabric
of hate.

jewel@gleeful.com
a seraph production