vitriol

so beautiful and soft,
day broke verdant and pink
not red like I thought
– I’ve got to get the hell out

before I frighten
cheerful morning birds
with my shout
of “fuck this!”
as I trip over my own feet
and twist sweet nothings
into odes
of vitriolic despair

one more attempt
at smoothing raging hair
and minimizing riotous hips
only ends
in sweaty frustrated
abandon
with no relief
from field or creek bed

so beautiful and soft
have not been my dreams of late
while something edges closer
to sanguine freedom