Wednesday, January 20, 2010

16 of 30

Deadlines are dead but the poetry lives on...


Fuck jesus
I wept
Shed blood and tears to make the unworkable work
I put in work
Worked my fingers to the bloody bone
Ground my shoulders against the boulders until my heart felt like stone
A marriage of misery and deceit
You trod upon my loyalty with glad feet
Me pregnant with our possibilities harboring hostility because of your infidelity
I sang sweet melodies to our child in utero hoping my tear stained voice would help her to grow
Grow into the woman I was not at that time
I whined, begged, pleaded to be needed by you
Cooked your food, ironed your clothes and fucked you too
Not enough, not good enough, I took enough of your shit to start a swine farm
When you grabbed, shook and pushed my autonomic nervous system rang an alarm
Time to go
Pack and don't look back
Take the babies and flee
And life became real
I faced it with zeal
Free of of the enslavement I traded my maiden name for
Closed the door on the poor girl who knew not womanhood
I stood on my own, made a home for me and my seeds
Free of you and your misdeeds
And now I am triumphant
I weep no more

1 comment:

Soul Of Copper said...

The metaphorical creativity in here is nice. You also used the personicifaction of marriage and harmful emotions in a way that made it seem like you were bound by the actions and not by a person. Strong poem!