Monday, 11 April 2011


Day 11 Prompt: Write a poem of at least forty lines that is a single sentence. This was fun.

In theory I admire you;
You are loud and you make no apology
For stabbing history in its back,
You give voice to
Bitterness that has been
Sputtering for centuries,
Burnt like
things that fall to the back
Of the oven
And take to stiffness
And smell, and for that
You offer me a nose—
You are a woman
And you speak this tongue;
I am allowed no guilt,
No xenophobic comfort—
After all you may well speak the truth:
On any day I am obliged
To trust you over
The tired old men who ruffle
Their feathers
And point their fingers,
The men who would rather see
The both of us dead

You tear me limb from limb,
With nothing but words
And a matchstick;
You scowl at the little girl
I was, who made a show
Out of putting on praying clothes,
Who listened and learned,
Listened and learned

And what am I to do
With these beautiful beads,
This pendant with swirling words,
With these goose-bumps
I still sometimes get
At the mention of god
And good women,
And all these stars?

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