Flip

You know of my mind; welt of strap and boot,
fear of the axe haft, mattress hidden.
Shaft of nightmare cantilevered
on rotted props of war.

Now, you prompt me to beat my torturers;
bring only those things seared on my flesh.

Casuistry, bright mutation of thought,
to act, to gore.

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minor edit 29.09.10