In honor of movement, I write "Stand." :)
Stand at the beckoning of a stranger,
as she curls that wicked finger fat with
sedentary sitting.
A lifestyle you didn’t choose
when you were
able to choose.
Stand with your back pressed solidly
to the wall where
no one, save yourself, wants you to be.
Watch her wave and crank that wretched wand
as much she wants.
You do not follow. You stand. You
Stand and hold tight
that sticky rubber lining the metal frame
in front of you, enclosing you like a cage.
“Come here,” she says, into your ear, into your head,
a space she thinks is nothing but.
“Come here,” she says, into your ear, into your head.
Stand at the beckoning of a stranger,
that you wish to choose your position.
Stand that it is not hers.
I welcome any and all comments, suggestions, and/or constructive criticism.
Turns out I'm super sick, so nothing has been going as scheduled. Oh well.
Happy weekend, Workshoppers!
Erin
Thanks for posting this, Erin! I love the quiet defiance of your poem. Each time I've read through it so far, I've noticed different nuances and had a different emotional reaction--it's so cool when a work of art does that! I'm super excited to read/see/hear more of your stuff. Hope you feel better soon!
ReplyDeleteCooooool. I love the tone of the piece. I like how the words work together to build such strength!
ReplyDeleteI'm going to try this comment thing again. This is great, Erin! I love the super-subtle wordplay as well--the rhymes with "solidly" and "to be," and then in the next stanza the visual rhyme of "wand" and "stand." There's a lot of momentum in this poem.
ReplyDelete