Vorgeben

 

  masks

I’m tired of being fucking reasonable
Of having to be calm, cool, collected
I want to be angry. I want to be mad.
I want to claim my birthright.
Hysteric.
It has been calling to me for the longest
Through the ages from mitochondrial eve
Adam probably called her a bitch too.

I’m tired of having to smile. I’m tired of saying sorry
for things I didn’t do. I’m tired of everything.
I’m angry and I’m not allowed to be.
I must be the voice of reason.
The fucking mediator. A role I’ve taken since birth
Between two witches and a boar.

Medusa Smile

laughing babies laugh insane

when they see their mother’s pain

thy father wanes

laughing babies will never be

the same

This poem was written in response to the prompt for a family portrait poem. The picture I immediately thought of when getting to write was a picture of my mother and I. I am laughing and she is smiling, but her smile looks forced. I always find myself wondering why my father wasn’t in the picture especially in light of the recent information I gained from my mother that they were together at the time and until I was five years old. I have no memories of my father from this time.

XXV

XXV picture

*Author’s Note: Poem originally appeared on AllPoetry.com

 

Penny for your thoughts

Quarter for your crisis

No, my daughter wasn’t kidnapped by ISIS

 

She’s insane you see

She’s lost her memory

She won’t get help

She fucking hates me

 

She thinks I took her baby

What left of it there was

She thinks I made her abort it

In the tub

 

Now she thinks that

The doctor is telling a tale

She won’t stay off that damn

Cell

 

So what should we do doc

Pray tell?

She’s had an epiphany

We’ll just tell her

She’s going to hell

Sweet Sixteen

sweet sixteen picture

 

*Author’s Note: Poem originally appeared in the Spring 2015 issue of Spectra, the literary magazine of Louisiana State University at Shreveport

Sweet sixteen

What a fucking

joke.

 

That slimy

pink cake being

stuffed down my

throat.

 

One for

the money. Two

for the show.

 

One

more breath and

I’ll choke.

Dragged

into the

frosting don’t let

go.

 

 Your life is not

your own. Too

much sugar means

you’re too sweet.

 

Not enough

and you’re not

good enough to eat.

 

Just the right

Amount and it’s

all good.

There

will be another

slice. But not

nearly as good.