Sheree la Puma

I wanted stars

                        I got dust

             I wanted a fairytale

                                     You were no prince.

I picked the man on the street because I was         tired

of living

            with superman

musical genius,

                         an intellectual con.

I wanted to focus         on me. Write a little


Must have been a lapse in judgement, I think.

            After wasted days trying to reconcile


He’s mad because his order won’t

             go through -

                        He wants to send


            to his mother.

                        “The zips not correct,” he says

                        & she spent the day in plastic



                        I’ve decided

to get old & fat

            so, I can write without



the body count

rises -

not me

           wrong sex      wrong place


                      not dead

           wrong color

not young       not gaynot

           hip -

                       not sister, brother.

            mother -

not       mother -

            shamed                     mother

my daughter

             trades books for a badge

demands silence,


                          my soul

in a public


the body count


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