Sixth Grade, New York
It's cold and I don't have a winter coat.
But my mom has one from the seventies.
Lilac corduroy, pleats, an oversized
peter pan collar filled with down.
It does not bear the name of a sports team.
My name appears at the top of the Big Tits list,
which finds its way to me in assembly.
Number two on the list is pregnant
within two months. She tells me over pizza
and I take her to the penny candy store,
fill her little white bag with whatever she wants.
At a sleepover in her huge Victorian
her mother pulls a knife and tells her to die.
In November I shoplift at the mall: hair clips,
silver nail polish, multi-colored button earrings.
I am caught and I think my dad won't love me
anymore. He does. Christmas is so white
we can't get our car out of the driveway
and we walk to mass in snowsuits. In the spring
my parents abandon their faith but make us keep ours.
My brothers wait until the car is out of sight and split
to smoke in the alleys and god knows what else.
I go in and I pray and sing the songs, and when I leave
the priest holds my hands and wishes me peace.
3 comments:
Dearest Katie,
I LOVE reading your poetry. One of the highlights of my day now (along with long walks home and waking up next to my sweetheart.)
I most relate to poem 1. Do you love me? Do you love me? Do you love me? Do you love me? I need so much reassurance.
I think I love this New York 6th grade poem. It seems so timeless - like it could be about any of the 20th century decades - (minus the seventies reference of course.) I like the idea of art not being dated by specific references to time or culture.
Thanks so much for sharing this.
"My name appears at the top of the Big Tits list" is my new favorite line of anything, anywhere. This is great stuff, and way to keep your promise regardless of too much to drink yesterday.
This stuff is grrreat! I wasn't aware that you have breasts even now, but to find out you had big ol' chart topping mamories in middle school was a surprise to me.
Really, really, great poems.
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