Words for the Chisel (collection)/Quarrel

by Genevieve Taggard

For works with similar titles, see Quarrel.

Quarrel

Stop fighting! It's the armour that I hateAnd not the boy beneath it. Will you runOut from your anger, put the quarrel straight—(I will not always be the vanquished one!)

Or shall we go on raging, while we waitEach for the other to come crying outLike demons in the bible, so too late,With frantic tears, bewildered by a doubt:

If I must anger and possess you soAnd make you turn on me so black an eyeYour anger may not let you out but growTo be your only being, by and by;

And we will go down clattering at last,Two empty people, murderously fast.