Anger Linda Pastan (1932- ) You tell me that it's all right to let it out of its cage, though it may claw someone, even bite. You say that letting it out may tame it somehow. But loose it may turn on me, maul my face, draw blood. Ah, you think you know so much, you whose anger is a pet dog, its canines dull with disuse. But mine is a rabid thing, shapening its teeth on my very bones, and I will never let it go. --

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