A poem: Velvet glove

An iron hand in a velvet glove, soft veils over roots unwavering- your core, honey-mouthed- your discourse, your silence.   Within, there is the hibernating alpha-serpent, awaiting resurrections- you bathe in the light of her uttered incantations.   You spot the red flags of the dark triad, you never wave white flags, for there’s noContinue reading “A poem: Velvet glove”