In my sleep I
chew on the
laces of the gloves,

trace the eyelets
with my tongue,
memorize the leather
the way an animal will
lick a wound.  Hour

after hour, while you
dream, I gnaw
and pull,
to work my fists
free.

Betrayal is bone
on bone, is
the long, vacant scream
of the dying, is
what pardons the soul

leaving these words
and this mouth
weapons.