Her poem punched holes in the blind-eyed walls,

made beats with her teeth

and bullets with her tongue.

Bang bang went her gun

made of eloquent rage

as she kicked out ire on a war-torn page.

 

She drank deep of electricity,

crackling ferocity;

there is no mediocrity in her world's eye.

Now her fire feeds mine

and our minds come alive

and we rise like lions after slumber.

 

 

 

(written for Karen Ankers, after reading this magnificent poem by her https://www.writeoutloud.net/public/blogentry.php?blogentryid=68023)