mis-mercy

I asked you nineteen times
to be merciful.
I counted.
I waited, and I let you wrap
your affections
around my ankles
like some tantrum-taught child
being starved in a basement.
--
It's like intimacy, but with a noose.
It strangles me from the inside-out.
--
And persistently insistent men
like their hunt, I'll give you that.

But I still asked you
nine-teen-times
nicely
to
stop
wringing
my neck
with such
careless hands.
--
--
As you yield no mercy
to my mind,
why would I be merciful
to you,
with my body?

Reviews

[Ethan]

Nice revision! I love this notion of being merciful with one's body. The violence in this poem is startling, giving it great impact. The child in tantrum wrapping affection around the ankles is a rich image! It calls up both the violence of toxic emotional entanglement as well as the ridiculousness of some of the poisoned relationships we get ourselves into. We'd laugh if we weren't choking. Nicely done.

[S Olson]

Glad you think so! Your initial input allowed me a platform I could use to further form it into what I wanted - thank you.