Being
this angry
is
hypnotizing,
lets
her be a machine
Lets
her forget days
when lust
ruled her heart
And
flesh was a tease
not
the torture
it is
now every night
Being
this angry
makes
her wish
she still
drank
Sure
that liquor
could
chase the chickens
bent
on scratching
her
brain pan
clean
of thoughts
When,
she can't help
wondering,
when
had
they come
for
the babies
Those
in the
starched
black uniforms
and
boots high and heavy
Did
they carry
them
screaming
Like
handfuls of love
Then
dump them
onto
the train,
the
fast-moving,
non-stopping
train
She smoothes
No-More-Tears
lotion
into
her hands
Trying
to smell
her
children long gone
She
knows it's a gimmick,
she
does
But
it helps
