Skip to main content

I Live, Disguised (Madison Elizabeth Holland-Lafayette, LA)


This evening
I am a karaoke star
I thank those roaring crowds
Sing my heart out and say goodnight
Tonight
I am a prostitute
Selling my wares at a local bar
Show that skin to yet another meal ticket
This morning
I am a young professional
Typing furiously on a keyboard
Eyes locked onto a screen that furthers my career
At lunch
I am an alcoholic
Downing drinks before returning to a dead end job
Counting down the hours till the day ends
This afternoon
I am a country girl
Yearning for a muddy four wheeler
Perhaps a cowboy to sweep me off my feet
This evening
I am a flapper
Dancing coolly through a club
Cigarette drooping from my pouting mouth
Tonight
I am somebody's true love
Holding them tightly in my bed
Dreaming of something just a little better
This morning
I am a gambler
Staying at the casino until day breaks
Holding tightly to my lucky dice
This high noon
I am a mother
Chaperoning children to a movie
Wearily breaking up the same fight for the fourth time
This afternoon
I am a librarian
Doing research in the stacks
Getting sidetracked by a romance novel
This evening
I am a hostess
Greeting guests and making small talk cordially
Locking eyes with a friend knowingly
Tonight
I am only myself, and tired
The faces I put on throughout my day exhaust me
I do not know
How to live without them
So I wake up to another day
Of living through
The extensions of myself
My many disguises.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

This Little White Boy Who Wanted Some Nigger In Him (James Leland Ludeau III - Lafayette, LA)

Grew up on a plantation
Removed
Secluded from the world
I knew classes but didn’t understand race
Because what raced through my veins wasn’t something of which I could ever speak
My father could fuck the slave girls
But I couldn’t touch the men
It filled me with resentment
Fueled my resentment with lust
Until it was too much to take
It was a small contained community
White as the cotton in the fields
Only dark around the edges where the black men lived
Ploughing the fields
I’d imagine them ploughing me
Sinewy
Glistening with sweat as the sun bathed their shoulders
The sweat running down until it pooled around the waistband of their thin cotton pants
Their skin
Black, almost indigo, like night
Some like coffee with milk in it
Cafe au lait
I could smell their musk
Watched as their muscly bodies worked
I yearned
Burned
This little white boy who wanted some nigger in him
To fall beneath the weight of one
As he heaved
As he forced his throbbing cock into my crevice
I longed for even the pa…

"I Love You" is Enough (Louis Toliver Jr)

Please don’t stress I see what you do all year Everyday you show me Through your actions How much you care for me But please don’t stress It’s not money or possessions That make me give my life to you It’s the moments that are small When people don’t care to look That you show your love most So don’t stress to demonstrate What you already know you do Just say “I love you” and… My underwear will come off for you

Poet's Cry for Mike Tidewell (Barry Sons - Berwick, LA)

I heard the Politician say in a hunter’s whisper, “There’s a poet in the marsh, I heard one today. He was crying about the marshland’s accelerated decay.”
“Mr. Politician, can you help us anyway? I refuse to think our marsh is so quickly Going away. If we can scan the galaxy And bring men back from the dead, Why can’t we save our marsh? I can’t Get that around my head.”
There’s a poet in the marsh, I heard one today. Whining and crying; Who needs them anyway?” “Mr. Politician, I’m here to make you feel. Try to wrap your heart around the things that Are real. Like love and friendship passion and Sorrow; the love of earth and concern for tomorrow.”
“There’s a poet in the marsh, I heard one today." Mr. Politician, I cry for America’s wetlands,