rival

I held an enemy
once.

She sobbed
in my awkward
embrace

begging absolution
for what she would not
change.

Her tears fell hot
against the cool
of my cheek

and for a moment
I tried.

soon or late

there is a sound
that panic makes
when pressed down hard

a high-pitched keen
not heard, per se
but felt in teeth
and marrow

but my grip will soon
or late give way
the force set free
to run its wild
and manic course
until its fury’s spent

then I will rock
and blink
amid debris
panting in its wake

why?

I was born with a question mark
on my forehead.
Though this attracted
no small attention
initially,
my constant queries soon
became wearisome to all
around me.
So I learned to speak with grace
and quiet.

But you must forgive me.

Some questions
need be shouted
and refuse to remain
unasked.