My Hatred for You

My hatred for you is tie-dyed
With burnt edges in tangerine-black.

It smells like volcano ash,
Bourbon spilled on sweaty sheets,
And kerosene dripping on withering violets.

It tastes like stale gingerbread,
Raw onions and ruined olives.

It sounds like a lightning-struck branch breaking
After shaky months of amnesia.

It looks like traffic lights
Through the black sack
With which the kidnapper
Just covered your head.

It feels like the tail wag of the dog
Forgiving his abandoner
On the cold cement floor of the pound.