I am not tough enough
my skin’s edges are not rough enough
to convince you that I will
fuck you up
if you try to mess with me. I still
put on the get-up
of a real normal girl,
I wear makeup (sometimes)
and dresses (twice a year)
and I won’t cut my hair super-short because frankly
I’d look ridiculous
but this
isn’t a beauty pageant, this is a knock-down, drag-out (drag queen drama)
brawling in the basement bar
kind of city and I’m not sure I’m rough
and ready enough to live here.
I’m not that cool kid
who’d already done the things you still wish
you were brave enough to commit
by age sixteen,
I don’t smoke or wear black-framed glasses to match
my hipster sneakers, I don’t have
a tragic past or a decent reason to be sad
anger rarely bubbles up in me
and when it does, I rage
ineloquently
against grinning bigots and blithe ignorance
I can’t even make a fist without my fingers shaking
like they always do, betraying
my inner cowardice.
Guess I’m just not sufficiently brave to make a fuss
not tough enough for this rough-and-tumble
Sinclair’s urban jungle, world about to
crumble
so instead of packing a gun
and fighting back, think I’ll
pick up a mic
and straighten my back
speak my shaking words into the black abyss
of this old silent gangster movie, make you (hear me)
sit still to listen
to the scratched record pop and hiss
as it plays back (skips and)
plays back
the history of how all this
came to be, my twitching fingers and glossed lips,
and those memories you’d prefer to forget.
Listen now, this is it…I won’t tell you again
August 8, 2008 at 8:29 pm
LeighAnna, I absolutely love this. No words to describe how emotional I got.
August 8, 2008 at 8:29 pm
I look up to you.
September 25, 2008 at 2:06 am
I’ve noticed that with some of your spoken word, it starts off so unassuming and only reveals its true nature to those patient enough to really listen. Reminds me of someone….