Poetry: The Urge

Monday, November 6, 2017 - 5:35pm

The Urge

 

to tattle on her.

Be too grown up to bother.

Choke on laughter —

let it bust out my eyes.

 

Glimpse my hair in every mirror.

Curtain every reflective crack.

Call Mom.

Hit ignore.

Surprise them all —

because I’m consistent for once.

 

Sketch the Eiffel Tower —

the Liberty Bell —

research the Duke of Wellington

and build him a monument too.

Fall back asleep.

 

Monogram my purse.

Erase every material trace.

 

Pluck a wild mushroom and taste it.

Spit it out!

Swallow!

Let the poison slink through me —

nibble every day till I’m immune.

 

Barter for a bike.

Fix it up and ride it

to farmers markets and rallies.

 

Sip on the blue curacao sky.

Sit in a paler sky and sip tea

in the hot-air balloon my husband bought

after we eloped to Turkey —

 

fix his shirt.

Cut the tags.

And all ties —

 

selflessly unload the dishes.

Leave them unfinished out of spite.

Paint myself blue like a Celtic monk —

dangle my toes off a tall pole

in Egypt.

Live there forever.

 

Tell my followers to send bread up in baskets

and cheese too

and wine

from Montepulciano.

Let’s get drunk!

 

Never mind the pole —

ax it down.

 

Quickly!

And these stupid followers too.