Sarah Gambito

Of My Fury

Children lift tiles from the bathroom.  I employ them.  I give one a machete.

I give the other a borrowed life.  Together we cut cane on the Asian-American mollusk.

 

Of my fury,

I make Cheeto-straight-A’s.

 

Of my fury,

I come like a joint popping into place.

 

Of my fury,

I give you my shark fin.  You make a necklace of it.  I hate you more.

 

Of my fury,

I buy electronica.

 

Of my fury,

A cumulo-wind blows into the dear and blasted soldier wanting to “come clean.”

 

Of my fury,

A grass Moses.

 

Of my fury,

I feel into them.  Stuffing them into Wonder Woman bracelets and repelling my own bullets.