Poem 11 (not really) Malika 7/30

#11 04.12.10

I’ve got to get out-
Detecting metal with my jaw
Wired shut
On duty assigned during
Instructional time-
My role has changed without my consent.
Safe word ignored,
My boundaries are blown through
So now all I’m surrounded by is
Free fall;
Still at the mercy of a
Ghetto suburban mortgage,
I show up-
At least in person,
Scribbling sonnets on pay stubs,
Doing anything to keep my pen
Moving-
My adult life is swallowing me whole-
So I sit in it’s womb and
Scrawl on the walls,
Amniotic fluid the ink,
Writing the medium,
Chasing the next high in
Stenciled sentiments,
I stay within the lines,
Adding to the ones becoming more
Pronounced beside my eyes
When I smile-
But I wouldn’t be a kid again
For anything in the world.
That’s when you don’t have the words
That might protect you,
So you try them all,
Speaking in a halting cadence,
Lollipop-sweet breath pleading for
Unconditional security-
They kept you safe from everyone
But themselves.
And this grown-up suit we don daily
Is no guarantee that we will emerge from the grind
Unscathed-
Quite the contrary,
At times it’s a promise that
Teeth marks will appear across our jugulars like
Bone chokers made to silence the weak-
7 days to recreate your world from the
Skeleton outline you have been reduced to;
You can do it-
Just pick up the tools of the trade,
And pray it’s a fair one.
This is not what I signed on for-
Perhaps I was hearing impaired when they were
Handing out the instructions,
But mine are printed backwards and in a
Dialect I cannot access
Even when I dial collect-
The charges will be brought against me
Regardless of what avenue I take,
And the truth is I rarely know where I’m going.
My moral compass is stuck on “maybe”,
So decisions aren’t my strong suit-
I outgrew that one long ago anyway.
So here I am,
Detecting metal with my jaw wired shut,
Skipping double-dutch in a maze of beaurocracy,
Itching in this grown-up suit,
And fidgeting with responsibility.
I can’t see over the counter,
But my bills come due anyway.
I show up-
At least in person.
The rest is kept under dredlocs and key,
Hiding what is the real secret, the real treasure-
Me.