Poem Spam

[aquabean]

Swear It
by Marge Piercy

for Eva

My mother swore ripely, inventively
a flashing storm of American and Yiddish
thundering onto my head and shoulders.
My father swore briefly, like an ax
descending on the nape of a sinner.

But all the relatives on my father's
side, gosh, they said, goldarnit.
What happened to those purveyors
of soft putty cussing, go to heck,
they would mutter, you son of a gun.

They had limbs instead of legs.
Privates encompassed everything
from bow to stern. They did
number one and number two
and eventually, perhaps, it.

It has always amazed me there are
words too potent to say to those
whose ears are tender as baby
lettuces—often those who label
us into narrow jars with salt and

vinegar, saying, People like them,
meaning me and mine. Never say
the K or N word, just quietly shut
and bolt the door. Just politely
insert your foot in the Other's face.

Comments

[dormouse-in-tea.livejournal.com]

You know me not, I wandered here from a mutual writer acquaintence's LJ. I'm friending you because you post poetry. I hope that's acceptable?

[runefallstar.livejournal.com]

Hi! Sorry for delay in getting back to you, my life sometimes gets all kinds of crazy. But, yeah, of course friending is okay!

Hope you don't mind, but I've friended you back too. :D

Poetry is always a win around here. Heh!

[dormouse-in-tea.livejournal.com]

I spend most of my time being utterly silent, interspersed with random flailing about my inadequacies and the occasional poem. >_> But hey, poetry!