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I Can Stay Angry For Hours
by Deborah Hauser
my anger is a ball of fire
chased with a shot of vodka
a scab on a bruised thigh
a clouded eye
a ripped skirt, torn stockings, a twisted ankle
a phone call from mother
an uneaten meal
a plate shattered against the wall
a crushed goldenrod crayon in 1st grade
frizzy hair and smudged lipstick on interview day
a pair of army boots with busted laces
an air strike
a speeding train, derailed
foam on a runway landing strip
a flimsy carnival ride
curdled milk
a hissing swan
dull scissors
the top of a tin can rusting in the gutter
blaring midtown traffic
a parking ticket on a cracked windshield
the neon lights of a peep show in Times Square, pre-Giuliani
a headless doll
a masticated cuticle
a misdirected letter, unopened, unread
a late newspaper on the wet lawn
the snap of a broken condom
an abandoned dog in an empty warehouse
burnt afternoon coffee
an unwritten poem sticking in my ribs
untranslatable
a lead vault
the stained glass confessional
with enough compression
carbon is transformed
mother mary--
make me a diamond