View of Haiti after the earthquake. Bleak Street.
This poem written and originally posted in the comment section on Orange Is A Fruit, the Wordpress blog of Irene Toh. You Can't Make Me in it's original form is also found in a collection of poems called Duet as a download here: Red Wolf Journal, New Poetry Collections
You Can't Make Me
Don't you know by now
is what she said to me, tossed
off like flicking hair
or picking a sore
at the corner of her mouth.
I am still here, face
planted on Bleak Street in my
own quantum dot haze
calling this shit art,
still mud eyed looking beyond
my own ooze crusted
brick at the good life
they say waits for me over
the tropical wall.
It's chickens again,
barnyard pickers on sore earth
telling me what for.
April 23, 2014 6:12 AM
Last two lines added
September 15, 2014
The Barnyard
Contraction
1 week ago
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The chicken crossed the road. That's poultry in motion.