after Jeanann Verlee
They’ve drawn me simple.
A desire grown unruly and wild.
Hours spent warped in the funhouse mirror.
They thought I fed on the vanity of young girls.
They blamed me on magazines and ballet teachers.
And I will admit, they helped my cause.
But if I spun around,
I’d look different from every side.
I’ll morph into whatever you need.
Because that’s the truth: I go where I’m needed.
They will tell you that you’re beautiful, that you’re fine without me,
but I am not here to make you pretty. I am here to save your life.
And did I not give you a purpose? Did I not make everyone look?
I took what was barren and planted something fruitful.
I made you shrink so there was less of you to hurt.
And when the dark throat of adulthood opened
up before you, it was me who stopped the fall.
Kept you safe. Gave you your own intricate drama.
Tell me: when did you feel the thrum of life the most?
Was it when they told you you would die?
When everyone rushed in to save you?
I did that. And I would do it again.
My house has no windows.
The lights are always on.
I’ve got a baseball bat behind
the door and a knife under my pillow.
I won’t let anything hurt us again.