Poems and Poetry

A Dish Served Cold | A Poem by Roy Pullam

In the early hours
Of the morning
He faced his computer
Reading lines
On the local chat room
Hurtful things
Written by anonymous contributors
Words that stung
Harsher than a wasp sting
things that were added on
By other parties
In the dog pile
That often followed
Such postings
He thought of a longtime grudge
The toxins
Stored from his youth
The pain
His fist
Could not avenge
In the moment
He grasped his payback
His fingers assaulted the keys
Flashing a rumor
On the screen
Pressing send
Safe behind the shelter
Of a cute name
He had manufactured
For such an occasion
Reading with satisfaction
The half truth he had written
A black eye would heal
But this
Would be read
Would be remembered
And other trolls
Would add
Their own venom
Like hyenas
Gathering to finish
The kill


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