am I hurting you because I speak?

Am I a purveyor of damage? Am I hurting you because I speak? 

Are these knives in my hands? Very tiny ones? Slivers of glass? 

Flesh is the glass. And the grass, what is it . . . and the dirt, who are they . . .  

I don't know what I'm saying.   Shut me up. I'm probably mad. 

These are the ravings of all people in all times. 

 

I watch the news shows every night. I'm tired of being ginned up. 

I drink all day and listen to the flag ripping in the wind. 

Somewhere my breech doppelganger is feeling the same way. 

We want to kill each other. We have a purpose, now. 

At last we are the battle. At last we are joined. 

 

[Kim Addonizio {1954- } 'Transfer of Power', from Exit Opera]