Tilted
written by: Carmen Frech Oliveri
I am
indisputably a woman.
To my surprise,
and to the surprise of my trivial breasts,
the occasional boyish figure
that stares back at me,
my dark,
disobedient hair,
and pores,
like small moons on my face.
I am,
a woman,
ever slightly uncoordinated,
like the currents of the ocean,
zig zagging beneath the surface.
I wanted to be beautiful.
I stared at my ruby colored nails,
the smudge of black underneath my eyelids,
and recalled that I detested
beauty.
{“Boys do like you,” she said, “despite your acne.”
“Don’t mess up our choreography” she said, with a group of happy girls behind her.
“I am the pretty one, not you” she said, as she stared at her face in the mirror.
“If you sprinkle blush in between your breasts, they may seem bigger,” she said.
“Just don’t wrinkle your face,” she said.}
I am indisputably,
a woman,
to my surprise,
and in between my legs,
the wide head of a child carving my flesh,
a monthly wave of blood,
sending me spinning into all,
that is,
dark.
The heaviness of the world
in the lower half of my body.
I scream,
as if my cries,
could tilt the earth,
as I am also tilted.
“I am not one thing”
I said,
and I did not say it quietly.
I am happy to rejoin the world of poetry, after so many years of silence. We all know that a little bit of ourselves lives and breathes in every single written word. Thank you kindly for reading.
- Tilted - September 14, 2024
- Today, I Will Die - June 26, 2024
- Lirios - March 10, 2024
