Reflex

A palm full of crescent moons remains,
A sky without stars or light;
A reflex of rage leaves blood on the page.

Slow build ups, stops, starts, and delays.
Violence or silence – wrong or right:
A palm full of crescent moons remains,

Holding control in a firm grasp, mind in a haze,
Eyes downcast, body tense and tight,
A reflex of rage leaves blood on the page.

Do nothing in the moment, honor waits.
Breathe deep and hold it, for a new night,
A palm full of crescent moons remains,

Ink-like blood, blood-like ink – it all fades,
And falls away from its towering height;
A reflex of rage leaves blood on the page.

But hopefully in this book is where it’ll stay:
Slowly disappearing scars of long passed fights.
A palm full of crescent moons remains,
A reflex of rage leaves blood on the page.

-Jessie Gutierrez