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6 Anger - Emmanuel Torres

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ANGER

By Emmanuel Torres

There are those who can only dazzle


In anger words of pure heart
Like the steady throb of acytelene
Charring the rind of day
While seeds hardened in the fruit
Your silence holds close to your mouth

The design of such shrill fire


Is invisibility at high noon
Its tungsten fever shrivels
Feasts of flowers, handribs of woods
Darkening cities and curtains
That panic through the tears of widows

But a lovenote folded somewhere


Will not crackle in the embrace of fire
I think of you, how the loves of women
Are specially persistent and
Will not be satisfied with walls whelmed
By fire, their pride habitually

Conceives higher windows brimming


With the stares of children, an earlier
Sun, Fury like a blowtorch
Left burning on a torn edge of pavement,
Supposses the leanest landscape, like knuckles
Drawing no such order as rain,
Whereas our eyes still have those miracles,
The weed,
Whose lush silence our feet cannot quench.

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