The Hammer

I made a hammer

out of your words.

What did they sound like

in my ear?

Like a tear in the drum

torn apart by the shrill

of your voice.

 

I put the hammer

just below my throat

held strong by my fingers

these fingers have grown long

from the day you last held them.

Eyes closed I hear

music in your sarcasms

at the expense of

my spirit

The crowd chants as

they stand against me

Hail! The crossbow

You are the crossbow!

 

Eyes closed the audience look like trees,

brown stem green leaves

The Hammer still breathes

with every pulse on the side

of my head ready to get hammered.

I sway with their chants

bleed with every aim

of the Crossbow.

The hammer in my hands

feels like a microphone

I use it to bash my head

hit that pulse hard

to rummage the closets

of my mind and find

the answers.

 

We have to have the same genes right,

when you said I was your daughter?

 

The crossbow shoots

The hammer collects

and I sing.

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