To be poor is to go back in time
I have eaten dandelions out of the backyard
And contemplated the guillotine
The revolution of a coin
Skittering to a stop.

I bathed down my screen rays more than the sun
I'm anxious of forgetting attendance
than not understanding ****
I'm not sick due to covid but I'm sick
of times new roman font size 12

I am forever
plagued by noisy yard work
when trying to sleep.


                                        Skipping class again
                                        because of anxiety
                                        I don't need more sleep.


                                                                
                                                                         It is my birthday
                                                                         I am crying in the car
                                                                         27 looks real rough.

He drawls on
Picks the same three
All male, unlike me
The girls sit in silence
Watching as he
Does the problem
And another he does the next
But never me

I sit there
raising my hand because
When I call out
it's wrong
But when they call out
it's cool

Then I'm told
To participate more
I raise my hand most of the time
I'm called on least of the time

Sexism starts young
When boys expect all the attention
and girls know they will be unheard

Ah, yeah, there it is...
It's been years; too long.
The memory has faded,
But the desire remains.

It's that feeling I've missed;
Such sweet, silent songs,
Such emotions debated,
No more clouds in my brain.

Just a painless, empty bliss.
I can smile, and fantasize,
And feel the warm sun's kiss
As I breathe and close my eyes.

Such a blanket never sewn,
Can bring me this warmth.
Confidence I've never known,
And some feeling of worth.

Finally,  I belong!
I'm here! Can you see me?
Nothing's wrong; not now,
I can just stand here, and BE.

Tonight, when they watch me,
Their eyes open in wonder,
I shall stand and deliver,
And quiver no more.

I am here.  I exist.
And I am not afraid.

they've been eating cake
take their cake away
let them eat hunger
the upper classes
crave apocalypse
and speak of revolution
as a desirable inevitability
but lay the burden
of building the guillotine
upon the poor
while denying them access
to the forest
and the wood that grows there
the mythic poor
are urged to eat the rich
the mythic rich
the rich that are richer
than the rich who dream
these dreams
if you want us
to eat the rich
invite us into the homes
of your parents
and let us sit at your
christmas dinner
and eat your food
and serve up the horror
of our presence
the good book says
charity begins at home
let us eat you