A Furious Girl becomes a Woman in One Night
Biggest fight today,
feels like I’ve killed something with my own two bare hands.
Like I caught a fish without a spear, using my nails as talons,
the animal ripping through my human skin and becoming me.
But it consumes me
and I rip both you and me to shreds.
I was so angry I couldn’t see,
cussing, pacing, walking jagged lines,
faking nice, faking mean. Either way, I was faking.
And maybe the struggle won’t end.
And maybe you’ll let me go.
Maybe you’ll piss me off and maybe you won’t.
Okay, there’s no maybe- it’ll happen.
I constantly build myself up, raise this building
just to pull the support beams out night after night.
I’m a hell of a lot of trouble when I want to be.
Tonight I gave you an earful
and I’m not interested in how I’m not as pretty
as that crazy redheaded bitch
cuz I’m so much fucking more than I even realized,
even when I am encased in rage
The Shadow Bright
The shadow bright within me hangs
above the headboard of my bed,
encircling me with the fangs
of fear. The stabbing, sweaty dread
of knowing what’s above me will not
leave as I lie, badly stricken.
The visions that I never sought
creep up on me; my terror thickens
as I feel the clawlike hands
of failure close around my throat.
But desperate feelings now disband
as reassuring voices float
around my ears. They’re coming in
the form of complimentary
words and gestures. Shining grins
suggest that, petulant and wary
though I might seem, I am not
as a great a fool as I appear.
The shadow bright within me fought,
receded, dimmed, and disappeared.
A word from Sarah: Hello, my name is Sarah A. Foote, and I am a student at the University of Mary Washington in Fredericksburg, Virginia. I am a double-major in English and Religious Studies; however, I hope for my future career to be more based on the former than the latter. After I graduate, I want to be an editor for a journal or publishing house, but it is my dream to have some of my own original work published, as well- in particular, I am looking to publish a collection of poems. I have been submitting to online literary sources in hopes that I will someday see my name being sold on a shelf somewhere, or so that I will, at least, have the knowledge that people will get to read my work. I wish, overall, to bring happiness and light into other people's lives, and writing seems to be a good way of doing just that.
(Because they are so damn good, in my opinion, there will be more poems from Sarah next week. Bruce.)
"Work, consume, produce"
-- from Jack Kerouac's Dharma Bums
Praise the headache that tells my body
I am dehydrated, tired, or stressed.
Praise the stress which tells me
I am busy, I need to slow down.
Praise the work that keeps me busy,
puts food on the table,
money in the bank account,
and promptly out again to pay the bills.
Praise the food on my table
the raw food breakfast porridge,
the vegan corn chowder
the worker-owned beer.
It costs more money
but it keeps my heart
from crying out in pain.
Praise the pain that tells my body
this can't be all there is.
"Honey, God loves everybody. It's human beings who mess things up."
(Tammy Faye Messner)
Eve Lyons is a thirty-something year old poet, fiction writer, and
playwright who is living in Boston, MA. I have been previously
published in Fireweed, Labyrinth, Concho River Review, Barbaric
Yawp, Women’s Words, Woven, Sapphic Ink, Texas Observer, Houston
Literary Review, vox poetry, New Vilna Review, Word Riot,
protestpoems, and two different anthologies. She currently has a poem
pending publication in Lilith and another one in Poetica this fall.