Grasping the will to hurt feels like the agony before coming: closer… closer… closer… 

—then relax into the selfish moment. Sometimes there is only the thing inside

you and the thing you would turn your gun on. T once saw that in me and asked 

what I knew about breaking another woman. All I said was, she wouldn’t try 

that shit with me. I know with the sincerity of cemetery soil I could ruin

somebody—but you can’t crow about that kind of think: show yourself 

to be a lion and no one recalls you were ever a lamb. I’m not a friend 

of the Bible but I know it can be best to move in peace. 

I only wonder if the opposite of a weapon must always be 

bare flesh. This world is molding me into a being that likes 

to break. Be brave, I tell myself, even when 

the quake in you is baiting. 

Pick a different beast—

one that digs deep—

before decimating.