February 15, 2007...12:28 pm

Poetry Thursday:Old Hag

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I love prose poetry!! Just last week, our professor emphatically proclaimed that a prose poem is an inherent contradiction! But I love prose poems, just as I love putting poetry in my prose. It’s all good. This one was just a fun little exercise for me, nothing serious.

Happy Poetry Thursday!!

OLD HAG

I am getting my hair done in the salon, a hot, melting day, and I am not in the mood. Next to me sits a woman, straight-backed, sitting in her own wooden throne. I say, hey, you, do me a favor. Glance down at your old wrinkled hand. Don’t you see, it is mocha only a few shades darker than my own and yet you turn your nose up at me, like you have shit on yourself when really you are the shit underneath my shoe when I jump from the bottom step and land in the wrong patch of grass. And isn’t it sad, that you could be my granny, hip and chocolate and proud, but also bourgeois and jealous and adorned by diamonds that weigh down your frail hands.

Psst… granny, you know babies are slaughtered in diamond mines.

And I never could stand my grandmother anyway. Why is it you turn your nose up at me? Because I am selective in how I choose to slaughter my locks for the sake of beautification? Is it because I speak, clipped proper like an Ivy League dropout? Is it because I just look so not black or is it because I’ve got the body of a playboy reject, not quite bunny status, where yours is simply rejected? Is it because I am the prime you wasted decades before? Let it go you old hag! This city has molested and mutated my Midwest courtesies, and well, I never much respected my elders anyway. And I’m okay with that. Even better one day soon, I hope you choke on your own bitter teeth.

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