Fuck you. You shake down a kid
from your gut then tell me
how I look. Tell me about
holes and worn clothes. Tell me about
food stamps and day care.
Tell me about mom's boyfriends.
And what are you doing in my underwear?
Choices don't make me. I didn't make
most of these choices. I rode the
same bus as everyone else.
You let me get away.
You opened your fingers and
let me slip out.
You left the latches open.
You came up behind me with
a banging sound and
forced me out.
Now come around with your eyes.
Come around with your eyes and
see this: I am not alone with you.
More eyes see you than
you see out.
Don't shake behind me.
You are inside me.
When I blink I feel
your breath.
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5 comments:
Is this a personal attack?
no, I just have a habit of responding to poems and I was inspired. 3rd worst can vouche for me. the tone was not directed at you directly. this was just the image I got and I had to run with it. had been in a bit of a slump lately and reading yours sparked a match for me. no offence meant. I enjoyed your poem. this was just the voice that responded.
then I'm flattered to have been a spark :)
I really liked the last "paragraph", I think it would be a strong stand alone poem.
thanks. I liked the 3rd best.
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