My Disarming 

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…