harm less no. 5

 

She’d just grown up with it:
the smell of muscle and the clench of fist
some fucker yelling with whiskey on his breath
it was get a tattoo or shoot a goddamn gun.

They were too bloody young
but they were old enough to know
from the lip split rib cracked hand upside the head.
It was get a tattoo or shoot a goddamn gun.

Every year they got more hollowed out
beaten down left on the street.
If you wanted souvenirs in this family –
it was get a tattoo or shoot a goddamn gun.

http://soniarentsch.com/
http://januarybiannual.com/

By Eleanor Jackson

Eleanor Jackson is a Filipino Australian poet, performer, arts producer, cyclist, writer, gal about town, feminist, freewheeler, and friend.

2 comments

  1. I love your poems but I sense some sadness in them. So my leaving this comment is an ardent wish that I am wrong in sensing you are sad.

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