little tigers

by Jackie Anderson

My little tigers,
left to your own devices,
there is a certain kind of rage,
no- an exact kind,
that begins to grow within your gut
 
it grows like knotty pines
twisting out of your mouth,
causing your arms to dance
as you are drawn to a fire pit
 
you grow smaller as it gets bigger
 
it grows and seeps like
swamp water; bruises, shouts
makes you run without reason
makes you grab onto whatever,
 
whomever passes you,
you freeze at a second’s notice,
you thrash with the changing wind,
 
you grow smaller as they grow louder
 
I knew the day you dug your
fingertips into the corduroy
that wrapped my legs
that all you could ask for
 
was to be enveloped,
wet with tears, your throat hot,
you wanted to be rid of it
the tightening of a belt
 
around your heart,
I only wish you could let go