Poems / Tuesday, April 27th, 2021

anxious to please and

breathless from the spinning of her world she stands there,

crackling with the anger of a thousand licking flames

desperate for approval, or anger, or both, any

emotional reaction would do –

for how could anyone know how it felt, truly, to be her,

gravel in her mouth and water in her lungs, she was

hoping that it would be better by now, or at least not worse, an

iridescent ache everywhere she looked, and

justice seemingly bent on evasion, the glimmer of her

knight in shining armor on close inspection turning out to be her own reflection,

licking her wounds with a salty tongue –

moons of darkness passing overhead in only one


opaque dreams floating up from her scalp towards a

pious Mary slouching towards assumption day, a dogma in-the-making

quenching her thirst with saltwater

rearing a child

she never asked for,

tipsy with her love for him nonetheless, a

usurper, taking up the space that had once been reserved for herself only

vying for attention

while she’s busy holding up the sky and her

xeric eyes have lost sight of what it was to be

young and eating cherries in her mother’s garden, sucking the

zest from the dandelion stems

Leave a Reply