It will not serve you well
to try to take me out
lay too much on me in hopes
that I will crack under the pressure
press your nastiness in the name
of "trying to help" up against
my life and tell me you know
best for me
It won't be safe for you
to try to make my life
hell, to serve me grinds
instead of hazelnut flavored
piping hot hands on mug
coffee in dead winter in hopes
I won't notice you don't
mean right by me
It's true: I do crack
I bend, I wail obscenities
into the atmosphere and pray
God is listening
and then, by force
of will or want I straighten
myself, wipe the snot from
my face, dry my tears
with a faked dignity
press my hair into shape
and remind myself
"I am the descendant of people who made bricks with straw"*
© Valerie Bridgeman
February 7, 2013
DRAFT/DRAFT
*Quote from Carla Jones, in a private conversation
*Quote from Carla Jones, in a private conversation
Please please may I print this whole poem on a tshirt and wear it every day?
ReplyDeleteI think I like this one. I have been writing because I am seeking to keep the covenant with myself. Not liked much of what I wrote. This one... yeah. Thanks for bearing witness this year. Knowing you're going to come by always pushes me. T-shirt, huh?
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