Elephants and Madness
I won’t apologize for
addressing the elephant
in the room.
In all the begats I chewed through in the book
of misogyny I never found a woman who was
assigned any title above a breeding cow or criminal
with curves that forced men to think with their genitals.
In the time of erasers, I threaten masculinity
by my rashness to denounce the red apron
of submission and speak in full sentences
that indicate I have read books banned as feminist.
My madness is mine…It grows and prospers…
I come from a river of poets who swim
in dreams, ink rafts from visions, and aren’t
afraid they’ll drown if rejection pulls them into rapids.
©Susie Clevenger 2025
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Elephants With Forks
Elephants climb into a rowboat
as if they won’t drown from
the weight of their ambiguity.
Oh, they don’t fool me.
I’ve read a history book,
ate from a liar’s wooden spoon,
and dressed in wool spun from a pulpit.
It is hard to admit I fell for the begats,
trekked through Leviticus, and waded
through revivals carrying coins to lay
at the feet of manipulators.
I’m surprised I survived my chain
of not worthy with any faith, but
once I got off the roller coaster
of the bible brand of the south, I was
bold enough to journey to healing.
There’s so many why’s in me and yet
there are a few answers why I drank
from a cup that took me where
I should never have gone.
Two little girls, an empty cupboard,
and a promise there would be food
if my husband and I followed
the fork without questioning
where it led.
©Susie Clevenger 2025
Disclaimer: These poems are written from my experience
as a Southern Baptist for over twenty years. Everyone has the right
to their religion and faith or the right to have neither. I am a survivor
of indoctrination and the depression that came with it.
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