«

»

Dec 31

A poem

FemMe

The eyes critique me for some semblance of a smile
A hip sway
A flirt
To justify their existence, but I am not their god
Not present to appease their fears
The realization, sudden in them, cliche in me, sets off a fury
Words hurl like icicles
“Who did you think you were anyway, Cunt?”
As if the mistake in my identity was my own.
My reply, lost in the pale sickliness of complete silence:
“I thought I was just me” rattled like an exhausted echo
As the ghost of their prayers were killed not by my words
But rather the swift beat of heels on pavement
And their raucous derision
As I walk away

……

So I wrote that in October with the full intention of posting then. I rarely write poetry anymore and never write political poetry. I mostly try to write strange takes on the sonnet forms. This one obviously wasn’t in a form just had the theme and lines in my head and wrote them down. It’s nice if you like it, and not a big deal if you don’t. Let me know your thoughts good or bad. I am really interested to hear honest responses.

1 comment

  1. 1
    Kerri

    I like your poem. Great moments of deep truth. Reminds me of some of my favourite poets/poems (including Emily Dickson). As far as it not being “in a form”, art (including poetry) is all a back and forth between rules and breaking them.; in some ways, there are no rules. Also, I always want to point out that all art is political in some form or another. We just notice it when it’s more prominent.

    I’d love to see more of your poetry. 🙂

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

You may use these HTML tags and attributes: <a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <s> <strike> <strong>

bacurin.mertie@mailxu.com brightly@mailxu.com