The Poetry Project

Poems

Suzanne Goldenberg

Diablo

It’s the day of the devil and you ride it out you can’t cower at times like this, it’s now that
you let your horns shine. Timidity doesn’t suit you hovering three feet over the sidewalk
in broad daylight not caring about glaring strangers. You’re finally out and proud.
They’re writing graffiti on your wall. it’s the wall you dreamed about all those years. You
have three working ladders only one actually works but you get used to it, Climbing
outside the walls on to the rooftop laying on your back with the fields gently swaying.
You see teenagers sleeping in the landing acting guilty at the front door Leaving
footprints on the wall on the roof and ceiling. You talk to the exterminator personally like
he came over for a tinder date apologizing for the mess you promise it won’t happen
again. It will be different next time. He says lady you think I ain’t seen worse? I’ll take
you away from all this, we’ll have a maid. we won’t need an exterminator and You can
get back to the important things, like breakfast lunch dinner snacks movies novels and
the river the river the river

punkless

i’m just trying to get to Rockaway. The train
is down the ferry is down the trains
don’t go there anymore . I’m stranded
naked /half dressed /properly dressed w/ my backpack on.
At some point I have to cross an elevated cat walk
and the laborers say don’t fall here
it would be fatal so i fall.
But the guy catches me
so I’m ok but still cant
get where i m going stuck in other part of dream
by my undergrad students won’t play guitar
they listen to me. I have to raise my voice.
but they still listen
I’m embarrassed and punkless.

Archive of the 1981 Feminist Reading Group

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