The Meeting
The door shuts.
I shaking with anger, incredulous
About the verbal attack,
The dismissal of my sweat and elbow, so
Flippantly, caught up in loud anger,
Blustery nonsense.
And the thought buries in,
Is this the lens everyone sees me through?
The steady visits of others who witnessed say
No.
But the seed of doubt persists.
My leaky eyes betrayed me, mirrored back
with pity, or so I think.
So I pick up my ambition, my drive, my focus,
To glue back together.
I think I'll hide
Until the raw wounds smooth over.
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