The Scold's Bridle
I would have told you
I loved those days,
mouthing sounds through the rusty bit.
I would have torn my arms
from the chair
and grasped your hands,
frantic and silent.
Headpiece clamped sound,
I would have beckoned you to me
to remind me of days
renounced by scorn
on the fourteenth of May.
Urgent and unmoved
I would have changed events
and adopted your views.
I would have said
I loved the passion of debate,
but restrictions put upon me
make tooth and metal grate.
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