Paper Tigers

I had hoped you didn’t know

My words are only paper tigers

They rustle fluttering like the wasps

Locked in the tower of my throat

I stare at the tea bags

Slumped against stained ceramics

Victims of drunk recklessness

Just like me

And this

I will the wasps to fly out

And sting you

In ways my words cannot

But they fumbleuselessly

Against my pride

Blocked by the wall of tears

That must come first

There’s no space for tears

On this saucer sized table

Where could they go?

Not onto your shoulder

Helped by your hand to cross

That bridge

 It’s soggy in ways

Only burnt toast can be

No,

Those tears would only

Trip into my mug

And I don’t cry for those decaying teabags

And I hate salty earl grey

Worse than hemlock

And you’re still there

In that café chair

Napkins flutter

Toddlers’ fisty shaking threats

And I see my tigers

Escape and lose my eyes

Across the napkins’ faces

There is a silence

The silence as one swollen raindrop

Splashes against a fevered side walk

And evaporates

While thunder sulks and lightning screams

Why does this silence

Feel like your dance of victory?

Because I want the song of my tiger’s snarls

Right now

Because they should be ripping out your tongue

About now

But it seems like you’ve got mine instead

The key to my tower of waspy confusion

Your arrogance and alm

Pull my paper tigers by the tail

Fold them diagonal crossed and back

Into origami cranes

Those words

That just last night growled

King of the jungle

To my hairbrush

You’ve diminished to weak and gangly

Stick legged cranes

And I’m sick of it

Sick of hopping around

On one gangly leg

The other bent up

Trying not to take up

Too much space in your world

And I’m done with it

My words may be paper

But I am not a crane

I’ll stiffen them with salt and salty tea

Before I’ll ever let you fold me up