Jack

Jack

In my mind he's the one that stole my wife,
walked off with my kids, ruined a life
of twenty years standing. Perhaps it's the shape of his head
or the way it tilts to one side. He could easily be scheming
what he'll do next, as if what he's done,
hasn't hurt enough, driven me to the edge.
I mean, take a look at the state that I'm in,
when a gourd vegetable can remind me of him.
So this is for the text I inadvertently read,
that pulled no punches about their exploits in bed
over the last two years. I take my chance to even the score,
and wrestle him to the floor, with one knee keeping him still,
I trepan a hole through his scull with a hand-held drill.
With a well sharpened blade I etch him a crown,
prize open his frown, scoop out his brains, cut out his eyes
with a silver spoon. I set them aside while I punch out his teeth

Now he rests on my windowsill
and despite the blazing eyes and sadistic grin,
he's been reduced to the point where his bite
can hurt no more than the nip of candlelight.