Thursday, October 27, 2016


You're a willful little girl
who'll pretend
to eat all her food,
every last bit of it,
but that the toilet bowl
will swallow
sometime later;
you'll buy winning tickets,
but never cash them;
you'll wear disappointment
like a birthright
next to a trampled heart.
You'll get in front
of retrospect
and won't look
while crossing.
You don't believe
in God,
but wonder
if he's angry
at you.
You've predicted
your prophecy
and are determined
to get to where
you're unsure
of going.
You've set up
a lingerie shop
in the south Bronx
selling Parisian silk
to old whores
and do not care
how much cash you keep
on hand.
You are hellbent
and driven
and hand the keys over
to nobody.

Norman Savage
Greenwich Village, 2016

1 comment:

  1. I know how incredibly precious,
    how rare a gem;
    (few things one could cherish more)
    I am recognized as the fraud, the great deceiver.
    When I am called out by another with eyes like mine;
    Out from behind one of my many masks.
    To be psychically stripped of my delicately stitched kimono.
    I am naked, vulnerable, raw; living.
    A hideous beauty within the jarring truth of the 'I am'.
    The hidden places uprooted.
    gracefully triumphant, ugly and understood.
    -Mary Catherine