Three
gathered around a table,
finding worlds
in words.
Three
gathered in a moment,
plotting destinies,
with pens.
Three
gathered in contemplation,
changing everything
with imagination.
Each act ahead comes
from what’s behind.
We are all walking wounded
trailing bandages
that tangle us,
tie us,
trip us
into our future.
Wear a blind fold:
we cannot look into a mirror to see the pain
etched across our faces.
See the bandages?
Trip over them
leaving the bar.
Scream yourself hoarse,
stamp your feet.
Shout “I’m fine, fine, FINE!” *
Ah. Methinks,
The lady doth protest too much.*
.
.
(*Allusions: In Louise Penny’s wonderful Inspector Gamache books, Ruth Zardo has written a book of poetry where FINE is an acroynym for F*cked up, Insecure, Neurotic, Egotistical. I’d say that applies here, too. “Methinks the lady doth protest too much” is from the play within a play in Shakespeare’s Hamlet).
She’s eighty-nine
and now she tells the story of rape,
of giving up a panopoly of dreams
for the baby boy.
(Shot gun wedding)
Love and happiness can’t be forced,
like sex.
Society forced her silence,
condemned divorce,
when she refused abuse,
and sought in the ashes of her dreams
for a phoenix.
Bitter choices,
dream fragments,
cobbled into a life,
grumbled about now.
Dream stealing beast,
a boy who wouldn’t hear no,
seven decades of curses
don’t erase the bitterness
of loss.
.
.
(true story)
Squirrel boss curses
clumsy workers as chestnuts
clatter past branches.
Class assignment:
Find an example of
alliteration
assonance
onomatopoeia
personification
Find 2 examples of consonance.
Go! 🙂
Since “me, too!” has spread,
What has changed
is that I see you differently.
I see me differently.
I hear, “She does that stuff; I’m working”
and I’m filled with fury at yet another man
who does not see what work is,
how everything he is able to do
is because his wife carries him on her back.
and I say, enough.
If we are going to be beasts of burden,
let us be more than mules with bits in our mouths.
Let us be more.
Let us be the partner who is heard.
Let the children be his concern as often as they’re ours.
Let the pink jobs and blue jobs become purple jobs
as they swirl in a kaleidoscope of
our jobs.
Our mutual obligations.
I’m glad you do the laundry and clean the kitchen,
because I hate those jobs.
Thank you for agreeing that poetry
and winding words are more important than dusting.
When your words reflect a patriarchy, I will remind you
who I am.
When my words cut, you may wrap your arms around me
and remind me that you have feelings, too.
Let’s stand as role models that being a man does not give
you rights over anyone else,
anyone else,
anyone.
Listen men, to what she says.
Keep your hands to yourself
(and other pokey bits, too).
If she says no,
Channel your unwanted urges
into art. Wash them away in
cold showers of reality.
Let your futile frustration seethe
like generations of women seethed.
What has changed, boys?
The very air you breathe.
White,
twisting,
writhing,
flashing.
Black,
sizzling,
scorching,
smiling.
Red,
faith,
courage,
blood.
Yellow
bright,
hopeful,
dreaming.
Blue
bubbling,
pushing,
pulsing.
Colour me
a turning rainbow
sensational
essence
life.