...and only now does the
Forty years of chest pounding,
The night-sweats and the tinnitus,
Remind me I must go back,

See his bulging temples
Burning under the coffee grounds
Meant for the cup she shattered,
Striking him square in the face.

How a tasteless remark about
A ring around the collar
Set off the shrieks of thunder,
The twisted bolts of fire

Shooting me out the heavy door
Toward the school library
Where I sat and stared at
Paper meadows and printed worlds.

And only now does the gentle prodding
And the coaxing toward the leather couch
Ease the rhythm of more grounded voices,
Permitting my hearing, my seeing

The little boy reading "Born Free"
Among the silent stacks, Elsa's cubs
Licking wounds or simply grooming,
Nestled closely on a lazy day.