Your character of steel is
Wound so tight to places one could
Easily dismiss.
Frought anger in that protective place,
Battling that bullet-proof mind of yours.
Slammed with defiance.
We ran the roads therein collapsing.
Plans were suspect and pulled.
My chaired chaperone.
Let’s play a game of illuminator!
Scrap-yard maker.
Inaudible audiences surmise
the inflatable atmosphere.
Opening the wound lets the sun shine in
While security likes to check everything twice.
Giving fire to one’s breath,
Sucked in and held.
Souler-Gypsies advanced upon us
Blowing hands and blessing our backs.
Breaking the glass,
And allowing an opening.
© 1-Dec-2011 Sonja J. Johnston
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