My Baptist Girlfriend

No, I have absolutely no idea where the title came from.

I wrote this during Hebrew class, and I'm not the speaker in this poem.  I'm sure this will sound strange and pretentious, but I have no control over what my poetry says.  It is my thoughts, it is my feelings, but it comes from a part of me that I can't contain.  It's honest, deep expression.  My brain and my soul told me the title, and I agreed with them.  I usually do.  This poem is a mostly subconscious creation.

My Baptist Girlfriend

We will not talk about pigs.

I will not curse.

I will watch her crunch the soft armor

between white teeth, white teeth. Small.

And I will be even. I will

be even with a beating heart-shield.

She screams and throws,

she touches and sighs,

she flutters her eyelashes either way.

She does not dance, she does not dance.

but she flies, my hand in hers,

my brutish instinct to

look up her heliotrope dress

Repressed.

we fall into it, we fall out of it

we fall to the stone that feels the pain we feel.

the bullets fill the air, whizzing

over my head

and into hers

but she isn't hurt,

she is injured but isn't hurt,

her dress riddled with holes

like a munched-upon petal.

and everyone can see her body.

and everyone can read her mind.

and everyone can see her heart

creeping out

amidst a bundle of nerves.

The word is in green because it serves its purpose in my poem with both its English meaning and its Hebrew meaning.

I now know what this poem is about.

Comments

[Abbey Mayer]

I love this. You're amazing.