Standing fast against the tide,
Hatred pulls me deep inside.
Under ebbs and under brows -
This dark emotion I arouse.
Abberations of my soul
Force me deep in hatred's hole.
Floating up and spreading out -
Patron of an evil route.
Holding on to tiger tails
Pounding, pounding, pounding nails
In boxes o'erbrimmed with hate
In dark, damp corners I await
Bells of time, bells that chime -
Bells that ring and break the rhyme.
Hatred has hot handles here;
Hatred is so very near.
*From the book, 'Still Life' - ©1989, Lorrah and Hitchcock American Poetry Series