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.

Leave a Reply to Paul Malvar Cancel 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 )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google 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 )

Connecting to %s