A Decade Fades but Boomerangs

Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem

Those niggling nightmares are the worst though not

In their intensity.  That bully years ago

With pimpled puss who threatened like a clot

Of blood beside your ribs comes back to glow

As black light spots and throbs inside a dream.

The seventh grade is gone, though not hot fist.

Outside this inner classroom comes your scream.

You feel like Jesus on the cross and kissed

By Satan on your long gone lips.  A tongue,

A serpent’s tongue, slides shattering to your throat

So you can’t yell.  The tortures of the young

Snap back.  Your past heart poundings bloat.

  And then he presses face against his crotch.

    The bulge ramps up disgust a swollen notch.

©  Phillip Whidden