Wednesday, April 24, 2024

He Expected Me to Run


Idris called it textbook random,
little questions framed in generalities,
getting to know someone without
truly getting to know someone.

His pop quiz surveys
weren’t innocent or casual.
He liked cruel for dessert and
feeding piranhas for fun.

Tell the ignorant a lie three times
and they’ll take it as truth.
I became the topic, the target,
of Idris’s petty collection
of insufferable friends.
 
Tired of the shoebox of bs
he thought I couldn’t escape
I clawed him with truth, 
“A peacock will lose its feathers when
Circe comes to claim its tongue.”

©Susie Clevenger 2024

Circe has often been identified as the first witch in Greek mythology.
"The Sorceress," 1913, by John William






 

Tuesday, April 16, 2024

Everybody's An Object of Something


Harlyn is tattooed with bitter bandages,
vivid scarred blood signatures of bullies
she’s had the ovaries to survive. 

Not many welcome different because it doesn’t fit
the definition of candy-coated pseudo normal. 
In this modern soap ring circus authentic is surreal.

Harlyn doesn’t care if she fits in nor does
she want to be an eyeliner zombie doing Tik Toks 
so her face will trend while her spirit calcifies.  

Everybody’s an object of something.
Usually, it’s attention…Why hide when
someone's always carrying arrows. 

When she gives it much thought, she knows
she’s always under the gaslight.
Funny how the unread believe they own the bookstore.

Copy and paste aren’t shoes she’ll ever wear.

©Susie Clevenger 2024




 

Monday, April 8, 2024

Wishing for Persephone


In this sludge of wildflowers
I grieve for their petals 
trampled by feet oblivious
to their pain.

Like astronauts from another planet
humans chased the perfect landing
to place a photograph as a flag,
conquerors who never considered
the legacy of their shoes.

I’m sure the valerian craved
their pink and white blossoms
could have sedated the callous plastic sheep
before they ever reached anything green.

Oh, I too love photos, bright images
capturing a countryside rainbowed with spring,
but I look where my feet are going as to not
assault euphoric rebirth with the crush of my boots. 

If I were Persephone, I would pluck
the spotted spurge of armchair busybodies, 
and turn them into fodder for Aphthona. 

©Susie Clevenger 2024

 word-garden-word-list-spill-simmer

Friday, March 22, 2024

So Many Plumes in My Portfolio


 Oh, I do love to dress in pink and black,

a tabby witch who has crows and flamingos as familiars.


There’s so many plumes in my portfolio no disconnected

shaman can figure out which part of me holds the reason

I need his sage to drive out my impertinence.


When you’re born female, you’re stalked with you must,

you can’t, you should, you shouldn’t…My skin is much

thicker than the apple peel placed between my teeth.


Silly man, you made me who I am…If you don’t like the view,

you shouldn’t have opened the window. 


©Susie Clevenger 2024

Word Garden Word List ~ Poetry Outloud





Friday, March 15, 2024

Insanity Is a Parking Lot




I roam like a withered cloud,
the white foam of cotton
against blue long gone.

Why isn’t there comfort in madness?

My mind builds a memorial for every demon
that has left its footprint on my chest.
There is no ink in dead flowers, yet I chase
their petals trying to find enough color
to fill a single thought. 

Is sanity a stroke of luck or a creature
some can tame while others are cursed 
with feral.

I wish unfinished would leave bread crumbs
so my brain could be tricked into believing
life had a map.

Insanity is a parking lot where I watch
everyone escape, but me.

Susie Clevenger 2024