that old grey slips in around the edges
the light behind the cremation services building goes on
slats of the fire escape hit the gravel snow
like ribs hit taut flesh
and i can't punch this anger out
my knuckles bleed for all the walls i've broken
a trial and error search for solidity
it's been so many rounds i've lost count
the only times i think i'm winning
are just times i'm beaten too numb to know better
and i've done it all to fix it
vitamins and early nights and calm calm calm
it worked about as well as any old bender
in the end i dodged straight into a sucker punch
straight into the crunch of ground teeth and
it must be blood in my eyes cuz all i see is red
the world is foul as fuck and i've known it too long
to be only 24
there must be some mistake of arithmetic
or maybe i'm adopted and
i was always small for my age
or maybe i just came out this way
eyes already black from all the nights i've lasted through
or maybe it was you
maybe you fucked it all up
with your good time at my too young expense
maybe that was the punch that kept on giving
and maybe you're all over the place
hurting my friends and lovers
and anyone i've ever wanted to protect
i would give anything to have dodged that first punch
or to take back the silence i sustained
the way atlas holds the world
or even
to be that child again
this time with THIS anger
this rage i've been working on since
and maybe
maybe a plastic set of safety scissors
and JUST the right moment
in the meantime
me and this anger
we're just playfighting
and the pain it gives me is scarifying
breaking bones to build them stronger
busting open knuckles to let my claws grow in
and you better hope
you better hide
because the next time i meet you
in whatever fucked up form you take
i won't let you have the time
to regret your indulgence
and they can call me traumatized
they can call me a victim
or a survivor
or a dyke
or a fucking angry feminist
they can say they're sorry
i had such a bad experience
they can say it's unfair
but this is bigger than me
i have seen the faces of too many fall
into that sadness and the distance
that i know without knowing
this is bigger than me
and this isn't really a poem
this is a promise
and a threat
2 comments:
This poem is not bad, but you've written better ones.
GM had a fridge magnet that said "Cheer up.The Worst is yet to come." I keep it there: it inspires me. Anger is good when directed at a target worthy of it. Is your target worth this much anger? GF
My target is worthy of this much anger. And it's not a poem.
Maybe I should make it clear to you what I'm talking about.
I'm talking about rape and sexual assault.
I'm talking about how it seems to have happened to almost every person that I know and care about.
So I'll be as angry as I damn well please, thank you.
And I assume GF means grandfather. I also assume you meant well. That's more than I would assume for most.
The fact that you couldn't decode the meanings in this rant means that perhaps you should think about what it means to be male in this society, what it's meant for your lifestyle, your physical safety. You should consider how it is that you telling me to "calm down" fits into a broader societal habit if rape-excusing, victim-blaming and denial.
And I hope, for everyone's sake, that the worst is NOT yet to come in this case. Because like I said. This is not a poem. It's a fucking promise.
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