Ira

Robert Frost wrote,
“Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.”
Anger is both.
It is all-consuming
And my mouth tastes sulfur
And my throat feels charred
Witches would cower at my insides if they saw
(And Hades would feel at home)
Then,
silence reigns
Screams are hushed down to nothing
Cold winds blow
And there is nothing anymore
(Or so the iceberg would have you believe
As it waits for you to sink)
There is a sense of stillness, of Zen,
when it comes to such cold fury
Medusa’s snake hair would be envious of my stare
My anger is the end of the world.
Touch me and you’ll freeze.
Touch me, and you’ll burn.