Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash
A well-timed, You are the trailer park; I am the tornado*
is a mic-drop situation. If memory serves then
shape me into something better, some layer cake
tucked into its covered plate, the only thing un-
touched in Laurel, Mississippi that day. You
had the higher ground, you should’ve won
but havoc must have is wreaking. Give me
something, anything to hide behind. My mother’s
party dresses are fading. The puzzle I thought
I could piece together is nothing but not fun, dust
motes are more beautiful, or the stalks where dandelions
used to be. Take this naked, this costume. What good
will come of donating plasma? Red tulips
are a fucking disaster this time of year. Let’s level
the playing field with a sickness or seven. Over-
indulgence is like fresh mown grass, sweet
until you can’t escape it. This is the year! Run
those bleeding open mouths into the ground.
What do you say?
Forsooth is the only acceptable answer.
*from the television series: Yellowstone
Crystal Karlberg is a Library Assistant at her local public library and a speaker for Greater Boston PFLAG.