This one was inspired by, of all things, one of those silly facebook memes, where you have to post 5 things about yourself. I don’t always do memes, but something about it made the muse wake up and go ‘ooh, is it poetry time? Can it be poetry time now?’

Five Things

I have five things to tell you.

You can’t see me as I am
because you don’t want to.
That used to bother me,
but I’ve decided the feeling is mutual.

When I was small I couldn’t remember
which was a pomegranate, which was a persimmon,
which one meant ‘apple’ in Chinese,
and was too embarrassed to admit it.

The damage repaired
was not the damage that mattered.
Patches only cover the holes
that we continue to carry.

Language isn’t foul;
intentions are.
And, it drives me crazy
when people can’t tell the difference.

Fuck it.
Thirty-four years is enough time to waste
sitting porcelain,
waiting for permission to thrive.

Five things are all I need to remind you
that the day I was born
it was raining,
and it still is.