Dark Satisfaction

Schadenfreude—

the dark curl of satisfaction

when others trip and fall,

the guilty smile hidden just beneath.

I heard it and caught a shard of myself,

a secret pleasure wrapped tight in shame,

something messy I hadn’t named.

It doesn’t fit English lips,

slips and stumbles like a twisted tongue,

a slip of paper soaked in coffee stains,

a word that grips the raw and slippery inside,

sharp-edged and cold like the truth.

Maybe it’s a place where I’m honest,

where the tangled knot of human spite

can breathe a little, no excuses,

and I can watch from the dark,

silent and relieved.