Stark and splayed on a table top,
I try to roll off my back but the guards come rushing.
Splayed this way I’m disgusting.
But what’s alarming is my disarming.
The first arrives in a gust with gusto,
Thumps a club to my chest with a stolid grunt.
We share a laugh and a cry but in different tongues.
But my disarming does alarm me.
Does alarm me, my disarming.
“Your hate dissolves,”
Says a wobbly voice behind me.
“Before hate restores,
Say ‘I love you, Lord.’”
Sponging blood from the table top.
“Your disarmament’s done,” says the guard, the same one
That but a moment ago had me laughing.
It alarms me, my disarming.
Does alarm me, my disarming…