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

Word Garden Word List ~ Thirteen Reasons

 

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

Word Garden List ~ Save Yourself

 

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

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