Dominion

There would be no honour in sleeping in
amongst the fallen bodies, even if you do
actually know their names. Hiding amongst the dead.
She called it.
Put your fingers down your throat,
she suggested.
Purge, until all the violence has
fallen.

I kept them though, the voices, and the
thoughts of blood soaked skin
and repentant ugliness, before
falling at the feet if an imaginary
hell.

Dominion. She called it.
Karma, I suggested.
What is the difference? She asked.
Timing. I decided.

Lapse in space. At my hands.
I don’t want dominion. I want justice.
Semantics, perhaps, but perfect
to me.