Her Blue Dress: A Collection (Watty's 2019 Winner)

Rage

Rage stands where the sun gets its warmth,

its distanced welcoming

in the tunnel on the dark greyest path behind the house

I grew up in, cold and shaded and

hidden from the outside world.

Mufasa said, "Anything the light touches is our kingdom."

I'm from the shadows, uncontained,

like some sort of animal, slipped and

fallen through the grips of Gods

trying to slip the lid over me.

Not to flatter myself, I would never, but

I've breathed fire

as if it was the warmth that raised me.

I've been inviting, invited, and

the space between where everyone knows your name

and you are a stranger

to the world around you, a construct

constructed to restrict,

restriking the broken lid above,

worshiping the man

that gave you everything you aren't.

Do not follow me

I do not know your name,

mine is rage.