Hooray for me, fucker
I am a campfire inside. I am smoking.
Miles over, on the next site, strangers point to my smoke,
signals and debate the seriousness of the matter.
I am asking for help. I am full of please.
I am a dirty mouth and sucker punch.
They taught me to be a secret.
Keep your head down. Keep your fists tight.
Speak as if you have a bellyache.
Iím a bellyache. I am stomach acid.
I am a void to be filled.
Let them fill you, they said.
Let them have you.
Donít flinch. Donít cry.
Donít keep yourself locked up like a trophy cabinet.
You are not a trophy, they said.
You are not first place.
You are not gold. You are not silver.
You are beautiful purple and indigo.
Blueberry and plum. Black eye and track marks.
You are weak.
I am weak. I am helpless.
I am a wet cat scratching at the back door.
I have my motherís eyes.
I have her hair and her soft and her worry.
I am worry.
I am ďis she coming home tonight?Ē
I am a missing personís file.
I am not coming home.
and I am good at it.