Tactile tactile tactile birds sitting on a phone line.
A grip so tight if you tipped one over it wouldn’t fall or fly.
Only swing down feet firm attached now hanging.
Bees, buns, string beans, Santa clause
Can a bird lark if it's in too deep? Quicksand.
Carrots, fast feet, too sweet.
Like a Sunday trip to an ice cream shop each flavor
Correctly categorized in big block letters.
Vanilla, strawberry, quick kid choose.
Beauty babe tries to downplay a private sesh with her basketball coach.
“His hand didn’t mean to slip.”
Bees, string beans, fast feet, too sweet
Sucking down that milkshake, good choice girly girl.
Big beard, yellow teeth, strong, firm.
Good. I’m still a girl.
Blue days and blue skies start to mean the same thing.
Birds on a phone line,
A grip so tight,
In too deep,
Oops my brain, oops I’m blamed,
“I’m sorry for any pain I may have caused you or your family members.”
And remember kids, don’t stare at computer screens in the dark
It’ll hurt your eyes.
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This Poems Story
I wrote this poem in my seminar class. He told us to write a free verse about anything that was on our minds. At the time I was thinking about a friend of mine who had recently been sexually assaulted by her coach. I wrote from her perspective. How her father took her out for ice cream, how she no longer felt like a child, but most of all the absents of choice even when the illusion is present.