Spills messily

These days, hopefully,
I let very little anger
escape into the world,
but the night I poured
the pho accidentally
over the fragile lip
of its container, hot
broth waterfalling
across the countertop,
the floor and my clothes
 — that night what I felt
was stupid, needless rage,
an inexplicable hollow
filled to the brim
by a monster I didn’t know
I contained.