The Bigot is Strong Again - published on Poetry Potion

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The Man who Knows

Be careful of the man who knows,

the one who's walked the single path,

the man who says, "this way,"

when life has taken them there,

like a dog strung along by the smell of meat.

When privilege has made him ignorant.

Convenience and wealth has led him;

down the path where the grass is dead.

He says, "see, I know."

He discounts you easily and quickly.

He doesn't ask why.

He doesn't know.

He will tell you he is smarter than you.

And finally having convinced himself,

convinced of his own superiority,

his entitlement to your body and charity,

he would rather have you die,

than finding ways of surviving.

After all...

...if the poor want to survive,

they would be rich.

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Still Nothing...

Uninspired.

Spending time with my feet on the ground.

Hoping to grow roots.

Maybe draw something from the earth.

Nope.

Still nothing.

Making coffee.

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Omen Sky

The moon sits so menacingly in the sky, 

looking flat across the world, 

like a god getting a good look, 

at what he's about to stomp on. 

Its like a bad omen. 

It's cold after a sweltering day,

but this wind doesn't bring relief, 

Master Moon has nothing but cruelty to whisper. 

A snap in the air that pulls your chest tight,

leaving you breathless, 

hiding indoors,

from the cruel sun's even meaner consort.

The usual dog barks are missing. 

The trucks on the highway are gone.

Even the Summer came to my window,

wrapping his long fingers around the sill, 

begging me to tell what's going on.

but I don't know.

He's cuddled up by my dogs from the cold.

Perhaps the sun will tell him tomorrow.

I asked whether he'd tell me tomorrow night,

but he's out cold.

At least my coffee is warm,

and I smirk at the moon,

he who can't come into my house.

My gates are warded from his ilk.

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Fat Belly

my fat arms have held the dying

and the grieving

my fat lips have kissed pain away

and spoken worlds into being

my fat hips are the shelves of glory

on which champions have sat

where they called me godess

and worshipped at my bedside

my fat fingers can play piano 

better than you can speak your own name

and have stitched up wounds

better than you have caused

my fat feet have marched for equality

and have kicked in Nazi teeth

my fat belly has laughed more

than you have hated

my fat belly is your shame

my fat belly is your undoing

my fat belly is everything you are not

my fat belly is god

and you?

fuckboy?

what have you done with your miserable life?

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Buying Happiness

"Money can't buy happiness"

says cishet person

says rich person

says white person

says man.
Oh, but you, you can.

I'll send you my banking details,

fill my coffers.

Since you have so little use of money.

Shut your mouth or share your honey.

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Three Conversations

2010.

I met him for the first time at dinner,

with our regular group of sinners.

He was the partner of a friend's brother.

I knew this when we were introduced,

so I'm not sure what got me all seduced,

...but I was hungry and,

he was beautiful.

So beautiful in-fact,

that, 

in front of everyone,

I asked, "Are you single?"

I never quite felt so alone:

he smiled at me,

with that put-upon face that could peel bone.

2015.

I met him for the first time at a funeral.

His partner died of hiv.

Three sinners alone in a church, we,

one dead, two alive,

surrounded by a hateful hive.

We spoke to each other,

so that he didn't have to deal with the family.

When the time came,

the father ashamed,

stood up in front of the church,

and blamed us for the deceased’s death.

I smiled at the man digging into my arm,
with his fingernails.

and asked, "Are you single?"
You could hear hearts fail.

We left the service early,

and got McDonalds.

2016.

I met him for the first time at a party,

he was getting divorced.

His partner, he said, had lied to him,

pretending to be a man or a woman,

or something like that:

he spat out a transphobic slur,

with my vision beginning to blur:

"That's terrible..." I gasped,

"Is she single?"
That riled up the little shit,

his punch caught me in the forehead.
Utterly worth it.

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