Had a total shit day today.  So like a good little poet, I wrote something about it.

If you’re looking for the tag, check out my post from yesterday.

Steak and Potatoes

The steak is not rare.
Mashed potatoes grow cold
waiting for the butter
I have asked for two times.

This solitary meal was to be a respite
for the harshest of days
as my knife clatters to the floor.

In the midst of imperfection
the culinary inconsistencies
have served their purpose.

I am not thinking about the best and brightest blood
spilled in a Virginia dormitory
by a wounded child of God.

I chew my meat, and I am not thinking of Iraq
and the war we’ll never win
or the powerful men who cannot admit wrong.

I stir the cooling spuds and do not think of my church
and the beliefs I no longer care about,
or of husbands who yell and sisters who lie.

I do not think of the Naked Ride Home
broken in my car as Jackson’s voice
skips…skips…skips…instead of soothes.

I tip the waitress well for the blessing of
unbuttered mashed potatoes
and steak that is not rare.

At least the dessert was sweet.

Yesterday, I put out a challenge that since I had written anything in a while, I wanted someone to give me a topic.  Lady_Songbird came through with a topic of forgetfulness.  The poem is rather dark, but I liked the way it turned out, so thanks again, my lovely muse!

Anyway, in case you haven’t heard me talk about them or don’t remember, this is a BRIK poem.  You type it in courier font so it looks like a rectangle, and  they are 22 characters across and 13 lines long.  The title is also 22 characters.  They are fun to write and they force you to be very particular with your words.  So I will also turn this post into a tag.  Write a BRIK, and put it in your blog and then let me know when you’ve done it.

She Loses her Memories

She swallows them down
these memories of hate
with whiskey and pills
They drown the slap of
his unwelcome skin and
the sweat that dripped
from his forehead into
her blank averted eyes
She drowns his face in
a sea of forgetfulness
but his hushed mantras
say happy women do not
tangle up their sheets

Hi gang,

Been busy with school and fixing up the house I just bought in January.  Haven’t done any writing except for school in ages.  Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to give me some topics for poems, stories, etc.

Love and light,

Janette