Sunburnt Privilege
I can’t hardly stand the heat.
The more I sweat the meaner I get.
Every salty drop beading up on my brow
pisses me the fuck off when I feel it
gathering the audacity to condense
and slide its way over my pale skin.
My blood gets to boiling
and I brood and I’m ornery.
Summer doesn’t sit right with me,
but the salt sting dripping into my eyes
makes me think of tear gas today
and I’m thankful for the reminder
to shut my sweaty mouth
and quit my bitching.
8 thoughts on "Sunburnt Privilege"
Leave a Reply
You must be logged in to post a comment.
Great poem. I could feel the irritation and taste the sweat.
I think of those as 2-by-4 moments– the universe smacking us with a 2X4, reminding us of our place in the spectrum of experiences. <3
changing perspective changes everything. yes, it does. thank you.
Rich work as always. I love your voice. I love how you pull us in and that your poetry always holds — and spits out — careful honesty.
The turn is so wonderful– filled with your distinctive voice, but reaching way beyond.
Good to be reading your poems–always genuine, always powerful.
Oh wow. Needed to read this. Thank you for writing it.
Yes! I relate. This was me today while gardening.