My Mad
Push me to the brink
And then tell me
You are so surprised I screamed as
I hurtle down.
My Mad will echo off the jagged cliffs
Lichen, prairie dogs and dragon flies stand alert
Some part of the world will know I was here.
Plunge your hand into my pocket and extract, lint attached,
my last unusable penny
Then tell me my rage is unnerving
Quite unseemly, even.
Can I please calm down?
My Mad has kept me and my children alive
And held my back upright when the skin on my feet
Was threadbare
and I could barely stand
Pry apart my legs
Try to snatch the soul you can never have
Attempt forcing your demons through the portal
Used to birthed the world.
Urging me, all the while, to forgive and forget.
My Mad is a ring of fire around my young, my old, and my beloved,
The steamy mist of atmosphere encircling the earth
Distilling harsh radioactivity into something used for growth
My mad is the growl and claw of the Mother Bear
And keeps my cubs from becoming prey
My mad is never surprised but always ready for Your
Shaming Techniques
Telling me how much prettier I’d be if I just didn’t get mad.
How much more fuckable I’d be if I just didn’t get mad.
How much more friendlier I’d be if I could just stop being mad.
A reality show without the reality of what the hell makes me
So Damn Mad.
Narrowing your focus on the angry tears
But not the angry insults
My Mad is protecting me from.
My Mad is the scaffolding on which every movement was built.
Remember the Mad Black Woman who, on the bus, would not Get Up?
(You have my Mad to thank for your right to piss where you want.)
My Mad is my beauty
no matter
how much vaseline you rub on the lens
That you use to you film my
Submissive,
Malleable
Counterparts.
My Mad shows up right when it’s needed-
My Mad has my back
And sometimes yours too.
My Mad is necessary and logical
And your faux shock and fake indignation
won’t convince it
to go away
Punch me in the face and
then tell me my rapid return,
my swift left hook
is ugly and unsightly
Not befitting a lady
Use your hand to push me down
Your eyes rounded in “shock, I tell you, shock!” when,
from the floor I trip you up.
My Mad knows a mindfuck when it sees one.
Push me to the brink
And then tell me
You are so surprised I screamed as
I hurtle down.
My Mad will echo off the jagged cliffs
Lichen, prairie dogs and dragon flies stand alert
Some part of the world will know I was here.
Plunge your hand into my pocket and extract, lint attached,
my last unusable penny
Then tell me my rage is unnerving
Quite unseemly, even.
Can I please calm down?
My Mad has kept me and my children alive
And held my back upright when the skin on my feet
Was threadbare
and I could barely stand
Pry apart my legs
Try to snatch the soul you can never have
Attempt forcing your demons through the portal
Used to birthed the world.
Urging me, all the while, to forgive and forget.
My Mad is a ring of fire around my young, my old, and my beloved,
The steamy mist of atmosphere encircling the earth
Distilling harsh radioactivity into something used for growth
My mad is the growl and claw of the Mother Bear
And keeps my cubs from becoming prey
My mad is never surprised but always ready for Your
Shaming Techniques
Telling me how much prettier I’d be if I just didn’t get mad.
How much more fuckable I’d be if I just didn’t get mad.
How much more friendlier I’d be if I could just stop being mad.
A reality show without the reality of what the hell makes me
So Damn Mad.
Narrowing your focus on the angry tears
But not the angry insults
My Mad is protecting me from.
My Mad is the scaffolding on which every movement was built.
Remember the Mad Black Woman who, on the bus, would not Get Up?
(You have my Mad to thank for your right to piss where you want.)
My Mad is my beauty
no matter
how much vaseline you rub on the lens
That you use to you film my
Submissive,
Malleable
Counterparts.
My Mad shows up right when it’s needed-
My Mad has my back
And sometimes yours too.
My Mad is necessary and logical
And your faux shock and fake indignation
won’t convince it
to go away
Punch me in the face and
then tell me my rapid return,
my swift left hook
is ugly and unsightly
Not befitting a lady
Use your hand to push me down
Your eyes rounded in “shock, I tell you, shock!” when,
from the floor I trip you up.
My Mad knows a mindfuck when it sees one.
