turnabout

stared at me
with razorblade eyes,
contemplating
my torment;
drilled right through me
pinning me
to her wall
with her lips pursed
and jaw set,
ready to deliver
the worst yet;
I smiled my best
vacant grin,
sure that she knew
nothing of what lay
within, nothing of
my shameful sins;
as she drew me close,
and I felt her blade,
I encircled her waist,
and completed
that trade, sinking
mine in to the hilt,
without blinking,
without blinking.



February 28, 2010. From the forthcoming collection, Spoken Rage.

Copyright © 2010, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.