December 22, 2006

Anger Management

By Tony Brown

Day one: I was born
with fists. Empty lungs
atop bowed legs and below
a balled up face. Skin dawn-pink
and eyes bear-brown, but it was still
those fists my parents saw first: knurled
walnuts on pumping, jabbing arms.
They laughed. I stopped swinging.

Day two: today. Speaking
to them at lunch I recognized
the sound of those fists
in my voice.

About Tony Brown

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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
This entry was posted on Friday, December 22nd, 2006 at 2:54 am and tagged with and posted in uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.

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