Hurt
About the beauty that surrounded him, particularly the moon Coleridge wrote: “I see them all, so excellently fair; / I see not feel how beautiful they are!” From “Dejection Ode”
felt like a door slammed in her face,
no reason, she said, hurtful another told me
of what she too…
eating food spiced to hurt she didn’t feel
burned in my mouth, didn’t remember
doing to someone what they’d done to her
tries not to feel what hurt too much
to think about, all of us on the edge
of a bad time we’re not quite out of
nerves crippled by what we’d
been through seek out even spicier food,
war news happening elsewhere
to inch past mind, rid what’s
spreading among us like a bug