Caged by a metaphor
Hard-baked stone formed by
an eruption of fire and fury and
petrified by terror
A moat of stinking slime patrolled
by armoured reptiles with teeth
like broken bar-brawl bottles
Dense thorn-sharp tangles woven
tight protecting soft, pale tenderness
as it sleeps its life away
A carapace of mirrors returning little
pictures of the faces it encounters
deflecting reflections of misdirection
Maybe I can find an end in the blanket
that I wove with threads of
discomfort and sophisticated golden strands
so I can unravel…
Chip away, scythe down, mop up and tame
so much metaphor: such hard work
my liberation
