Tara Sloblock - an impure metal

In her foreign land
she spits our her venom
as easily and readily
as she holds out her hand
to the single one
who urges her to come,
to come and belong
to a conversation;
use her imagination,

and lets her feel she is not the outcast
or that any time of hers is long past

or that she is alone,
singled out, uncondoned,

a stranger,
malingerer,
in her stranger home

that she built for herself,
her ver own prison,

upon the rock
of her egoism.

Tara Sloblock

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/an-impure-metal/