Bitten once bitten a second time
I averted my face turned my cheek
in time for the stinging slap a palm’s red imprint
fury unleashed the sting of scorn
the slow burn learn of reason as hindrance
reason uncalled for unwanted
attempted as always attempted
lesson of gasoline finding fire.
So bitten and bitten
I bit down hard on my tongue
clamping the rise of words useless in their uttering
tasted blood in my mouth
tasted blood’s warm intoxication:
neither redemption nor absolution
neither guilt nor penance
and this way swallowing
biting my tongue over and over
bit by bloody bit
the words bitten off swallowed
envoys, messengers cut down before arrival
the field littered bloodied with little corpses
I bit my tongue off bit by bit
until, tongue-less all that was left
was a scream renting the air
the poisoned silence hoarse, bereft, endless.
David Ades’s most recent poetry collection, Mapping the World, can be purchased from Wakefield Press.