st. vincent's getting to know you
A man flirted with me at lunch the other day.
He asked me what do I do?
I must be pretty, I thought, if he likes me in this hospital gown that ties on the side.
But I am not thinking of him.
I am thinking of you.
You, whose number I had scrawled on my arm when they took me away.
Then, I took your heartbreak and made it new.
I write poems in my jail cell.
I smell like peaches.
My lips taste like strawberries.
My bra is bright red,
and my jeans are cuffed at the ankles.
I am the gentle summer.
I am ferocious in all my glory.
I am a little black dress, soft at the curves.
I am a hand resting on my heart.
There is a leaf in my hair
and my shoes are dirty,
In the evening, I smoke flowers to relax.
I cannot sleep otherwise.
I like taking the train,
I like silent drives,
and I like walking in the sun.
I am mauve-colored lipstick.
I am weekly therapy sessions,
I have survived and endured endlessly.
I am not who or what you think I am.
I was not made by you.
I will move, on and on.
Lucy Rattner is a 19-year-old poet from Orangeburg, New York. She is proud to have recently self-published her debut collection of poetry, The Soul Is in the Stomach. Lucy loves the sublime, the surreal, and the sentimental.
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