Poetry: Pink and Blue

by: Sarah Stringer 

bruised knuckles, dangling Copy of IMG_6822

Your mother’s daughter
your father’s son
the deafening chorus:
“You’re not the one.”

 

Whose child am I, then?
 
Growled, whispered words
weave through tapestries like
water through sand,
tangled in darkness that’s

 

pink and blue and black and white,
lost among Hot Wheels cars, Barbies and Bratz,
and television ads.

 

As time goes by, whispers find the surface,
like secrets tainted with anger
and burning Canadian Club.
 

“Act like a lady.”
“Drink like a man.”
“Swear like a sailor.”
“Cry like a girl.”

 

I fight like a fucking person
(who’s competitive as hell).
 

I’ve worn the skin off my knuckles, proving
that girls are better than boys,
that boys are better than girls.
Can’t I just prove
that I am better than you?

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s