I peeled an artichoke.
The outer leaves snapped off,
The knife cut through the still hard but softer inner,
The spoon scooped out the hairy core,
And what I had was the heart,
A meagre leftover of the starting sceptre.

And so
I snapped off anger,
I cut through bitterness,
I scooped out discomfort,
I left the heart,
Served on a platter,
For you.