Everyday there is money
dropped in the swear jar.
I don’t know how much
strength there is in a dirty mouth,
but I’m not going to let bile
dine on my gut because
I had to swallow their words.
Every time there’s a quarter clink
in that clear jar I feel a bit of redemption.
It is visual proof I still have
a lot of fucks to give about life,
and this mason jar confession
is earmarked “charity.”
©Susie Clevenger 2017