The Fight
by Danielle Lapidoth
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"Don’t give me that shit!" you yell— I hide my smile in the sink. I hate this you but even so I have a smile to hide. I carry the freight of this fight lightly; you huff beneath its weight. When in this mood, my mettle steeled, I dare anything. I can’t wait to test my lines. I cast them and watch you reel, anticipate the flash of fury in your turn, your mental thrash: the bait tastes bad but you’re in thrall. We share this trait: the fight’s worth having once begun. Regret comes late, if at all. |
 Patricia Wallace Jones |
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