Pocket-Sized Rage

A jagged thing to put in my pocket,

to be rounded into a smoother stone.

I try to compress it until it can fit in a locket.

A token, a trinket. But it lacks shine.

Mined like coal, clammed shut.

This is not a thing to string with

pearls or wear with my initials.

But I want it to sparkle for my own neck.

Natural. Spliced by lightning.

Sundered like palm trees after hurricanes.

Enticed by the earth’s gravitational pull.

Abrupt eruption. Performed like stand-up comedy.

The heat cools, but bleeds with no irony.