It’s going to hurt digging in, under my skin.
Death before dishonour – the Cold War sits in Sylvia’s parlour,
pretending patience is a virtue. We all watch,
a slow burn, already warming the tips
of her lasciviously long
licking at her lips.
She would rather shake you all off, than let loose another tirade,
another stone, another reason to beg
Sabotage sinking to a new low.
Silvia’s far too unreasonable, although
she prefers irrational; madness defining her in the end. Hands
& feet securely strapped,
stuffed shut with gauze & gaffer tape.
No sign of life – metal bars
& padded cells
Floral oriental lilies.
Shes always known how to let go.
© Copyright 2018, Jodine Derena Butler & Poetry Out West. All Rights Reserved