Anger

Anger

Anger . . .

dark and roiling
into a yawning pit,
a plunge downward,
a light sucking,
disappearing act,
with no exit.

Leaden limbs,
anchor weight
sinking down
to mucky bottom,
wallowing,
hateful mud-sucker
clenching you,

Until . . .

an undersized inkling:
a twirling kitten's tail;
first licks of "Blackbird";
a profligate sunset;
an unsolicited smile
pumps you helium-like,
and featherlight ascend,
escaping the black hole,
floating free.

Until . . .

To be is bliss.