I decided to play with slant rhymes while revising this poem.
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Restraint
An octopus, serpent, tumor grappling the lung
angry tentacles sliding along
dodging napalm scattered at this throng
Speckled black with soot and remorse
brandishing brandy and sword
splitting pink tissue, letting blood pour
Too late we arrived, too deep for dynamite
how my trigger finger itched at the sight
of winding caverns, yawning chasms, this fight
Hand me a cloth, I’ll clean my spelunkers hands
as we mutter coprolalic war chants
let me at it, give me a scalpel, I want to dance
Time to go, He said, time to stop
took axe from my hand, time to pack up shop
Napoleonic triage, the dying left to rot
This is our limit, He said, drawing a line
pulling gloves off one at a time
backing away from this field of mines
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