Cory. 3

He screams at me

A lion cubs mouth

Of silver teeth

Like bullets he’s chewed

One day he came back from the dentist

And he showed them to me

Smile as wide as the horizon

Beautiful, but

Red

He spit at me

Exchanging Saliva for syllables

I grabbed his hand

Trying to be gentle

But he refused.

He screamed

Then walked near me

I saw tears that seemed like family

Familiar and consistent

I told him his anger was understood

But not tolerated

His Batman shoes were at my knees

He yelled.

Shiny teeth.

He put away his power

So I put away mine.

And while he breathed in between his tears

I remembered where his power came from

And I held his hand.

Purpose

Will I be transformed

A piece of granite

Made into art

People gawk and I remain beautiful

A historical masterpiece

Poised for humanity to admire

 

Will I be remembered?

A book written

That grows with the universe

And you flip through my pages

And find meaning in every letter

A story that can be recited to an audience

Waiting to be told what to think.

 

Will I be loved

Shrines dedicated to my honor

A religion that rises

Worships my steps

A journey copied by thousands

In hopes of being this close to me.

 

Will I be forgotten

This old man he

Faked his death

To bury his family with loneliness

As he watched for tears

Salted with pain and sorrow.

A terrible thing to digest.

Winter Ball.

You stop me in the hallway

After first period and tell me that you can’t

take me to winter ball cause I’m too flat chested

That night

I locked my door and cried into the tissue

that I used to stuff my bra.

 

You always hug that girl

who comes to school in heels

so I arched the soles of my feet over the rejection

and the pain wasn’t even worth your attention.

 

“Why is your hair so short?”

So I burned my ears

before I learned to fold them down

To set things straight,

It’s not short,

just curly.

 

But I couldn’t fit it into the ponytail that I could twirl

while you asked me to winter ball.

So in high school

I put glue in my hair

forcing what I wish I was

to be bonded to what I am.

 

I cried because I thought I was dying

My mom told me that’s just my period

So I laughed with my friends about it

as we bonded over woman things and talked about

losing our virginity

at winter ball.