I Wrote 10 Poems in 20 Minutes
There’s a star I found
And it has a pocket
There’s a hole in its pocket
So it can grab its knife
Stuck on its leg
And defend itself from all the other stars
With its switchblade star sword
I was my sister’s weird little sister to her friends
She always hung around
I went to the same schools she did
Sometimes they remembered her
I found all her old lockers
I was safe if I saw her first.
She said maybe it wasn’t right
He made it all into a competition
If you can do this better, or faster, longer
Can you beat your brother to the other side of the pool?
But it made them all ambitious
Which gave them something to hold.
Flustering the binded up bound
Makes it so much more fun for the irreverent
Because you get to say
These rules are silly
Look how I break them
And watch what you do without them.
I tried to tell her I could do something well
I can make a part harmony when I’m singing now
Thanks to being in choir.
She said, wow that’s really great.
Do you want to do it now?
I hoped she would sing with me.
But she called out my pride with cuts.
So I went quiet, me.
Didn’t take it seriously
Whatever it was I loved when I was young
He gave me attention but not strength
I’m indulging your whims tone
When he spoke.
He shouts down if he’s done something wrong.
Like telling his father that’s not so
Or bringing up an argument
Or saying no.
And he reigns in the fists his wife won’t let him hold
Because we can’t use those anymore.
But when at the table we talk about that domestic violence
Mom says, we never hit you guys.
I say yes,
But my brother just looks at his plate.
You know how hard it is to make me laugh
After knocking on my door
To tell me a story.
He must know that I don’t care,
That there’s more animosity than trust
That I’d rather be anywhere else.
But I can’t say so
I live under his roof.
His roof not mine.
Sympathetic magic I told her
Saying something will happen so it won’t.
She says, this after saying he’ll get so stressed
He’ll have a heart attack and die.
Another woman took my mother’s place
She doesn’t smile that joy one anymore
And there are lines on her not pale skin
And her hair is short and thin
This is the mother my kids will know
They’ll never see that happiness without a criticism just beneath.