NaPM April 09 2016

[cidermaid]

My stress will melt
like a late Spring freeze.
Anger will be grilled
Gouda cheese, dripping
from my chin; molten
layers of laver words.
Unsaid they will solidify
upon my chest,
become mountains of testimony;
uncontested evidence of your guilt,
as I destroy your defense
with my intelligence.

There will be just enough applause,
as the winners crown is lifted.
The prize, a subtle shift
in who gets to give
and who takes.

I will be noticed.