Blasphemy

Almost perfect teeth
large and white
slightly backward sloping – sharklike.
Metaphorical congruency
known to be out there
and not to be provoked.
Unseen
until the chill shadow and efficient brutality.

Mine was a walk on part in a hospital soap opera
a cameo of unimportance
by the time frenzy came into my waters
savagery had calmed
to repeated use
of an adjective born as a verb.

Language!
She turned it into a lethal weapon
projectiles hurled with ferocity no apology could soften.
The Queen’s English – not
even if the most frequent words
were found in the Oxford.

I had never been comfortable there
unhappiness a constant companion
satisfaction a distant memory.
When the chance came to leave
it was a decision needing no deciding.

A decade passed without a glance
in the rear view mirror of second thoughts.
One grey Sunday circling the supermarket aisles
a dorsal fin
brief exchanges of platitudes
still at that place I enquire
inserting her favourite adjective
When the profanity is ejected she looks at me reproachfully.