the knotted fist

you are a knotted fist
splayed and stretched
across bony
webs
as translucent
as the hide of an
insect
 
you are an indiscriminate rage
wrapped and snared
more tightly
than
the crucified
body of hideous
normal
 
the certitude of beauty
and your dalliance with becoming
have traded their poetry
for the anger
and contempt
of those once robbed . . .
screaming defiantly to the passer by . . .
shattered glass . . . concrete sky . . .
“Halt . . . Halt . . .”
 
you are a night of sorrows
who never speaks
or sings of passion . . .
or parts
your lips
to swallow
the
humid,
aromatic
taste of love