In The Bull

Originally posted 8/13/2011.

Once inside,
I become
the bully bull, 
somehow having grown
horns for eyes — 
I gore what I observe — 
my friends
turn aside.
Alone now,
I watch my own 
steaming breath.

I did not want
to be inside 
the animal’s hide
completely — only
to wear a bit for show.
Now I’m stuck and
all the world’s 
an apocryphal red flag,
a cape in a killing hand — 
when I see it
I am compelled;
I charge.

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About Tony Brown

A poet with a history in slam, lots of publications; my personal poetry and a little bit of daily life and opinions. Read the page called "About..." for the details. View all posts by Tony Brown

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