Poem: “Every time I hand him an olive branch, he whittles it into a Lincoln Log and adds it to his angry fort.”

 Dove done gone pecked out mah eyes

an’ made nests outta tha sockets.

‘at’s why ah cain’t see straight.

Well, that, an’ tha pigtails

you been pullin’

an’ takin’ off yer kiddie gloves,

pullin’ no punches, neither.

We continue

to play this game

of cowboys an’ injuns,

wrangling me

from the safety

of my tee-pee

saving me

from whichever gods

I hold dear.

Square dancin’

line dancin’

doin’ the Texas Star

all over mah feelings.

Offerin’ up this here white flag

mah handkerchief

symbologizin’ surrender

and you give me no quarter.


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