Poem: Standoff

By Judith Curtis


She, perched on platforms,

short silk dress stretched tight,

the glimmer of a sneer, every inch

of visible skin blaring her youth;

the I-dare-you-to-say-anything arrows

striking me dead on.


I glare back at her, this inverse self,

this opposite of clone, this obstreperous kite

battling the wind she needs to fly.


I am a dark reflection of all she

never wants to be.

My words are useless as spent fireworks.

She has broken through all my locked doors,

avalanched all the rocks of my faith,

left me nothing but hot tears that taste

of bitter olives and melt my rage into

red, raw bleeding love.