the original sin

No man is angry that feels not himself hurt
Francis Bacon

I was so young,
So stubbornly young,
On that hot, shiny day
In this new land
Of sun, and sky
And shimmering chrome
When she slapped me fiercely
Across my cheek,
A red welt rising
In the shape of a hand
Where a kiss
Might have soothed
Such childish fears
As mine.

And on that startling sunny day
My tears stung the place 
Where her fingers had been,
Leaving a new brand
Imprinted on me,
Anger hides with love.