She licks her lips. It’s a nasty thing.
Heard about it from someone who knew
someone who heard something
from somebody else.

Artificial sweeteners still rot outwards
from her organs. Self-styled dear-heart.
So tender. So kind.

Her pride is taking back: the internal “Ha!”
Karma to gloat: They Got Theirs.

Artful reward – a passive satisfaction
in aggressive keystrokes.

Almost like being there. Vengeance.
A confidence. (Or as near as she’d get.)

Someone else Failed.
They must feel… This!
They must say… That!

A self-loathing shared.
Transference is bliss.

And she is Glad!

The lonely space is cosy. She smirks
and takes lovely time to mock
from gossip.
They’ll come wheedling back to her.
Pretensions broken – knowing their place.

Because she is so kind. And tender
and happy to hear
someone else might hurt.

Even in her own imagination.

4 responses to “Scavenger

  1. wow, this stanza… revenge powerfully put:
    “Because she is so kind. And tender
    and happy to hear
    someone else might hurt.”
    i love that. this hard balance between caring and not giving a fuck…

  2. ‘A self-loathing shared.
    Transference is bliss.’

    What a powerfully evocative section. Wonderful!

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