I write like a girl.
Up at dawn
morning breath fresh
not clamming me up.
Head swallowed by bed
spit me out, hair in a horn
on the side of my head.
A satellite towards the sky!
Catching some vibes
and recording my dreams
not literally.
Write like a girl
desert sweaty
sitting on a basketball
glasses cloudy with steam
head pounding
to the sound of the dribbling
around me as I’m
pounding this poem out
call me Ms. Smith.
I’m a misfit, a magician
fill you with illusions
my fingers typing away
fast as bee wings
on my smart phone.
I write like a
Techy girl
sign of the times
write short and sweet
sometimes in rhymes
Ay, phone! how many times
you saved my poem’s life.
Grrr girl,
I write like a girl
invading males spaces
with my stats and analysis
my “what had happened was,”
POV to the game
carving my way into
locker-room chatter
taking a spot on the floor
chop it up like a girl
wearing purple and gold
swirled tie,
blazer, skinny jeans
pointy toed shoes
looking fly
a fly-girl.
Like a girl
putting out like a girl
churning right like a girl
crossing the line
pushing it farther and farther
stretched out like some tight
tights. Stretched out like a girl
pulled in all directions
like carnitas
my limbs feel.
Write like a girl
always on my PERIOD
, ? ! ;: “”
run the gamut of grammar
they give me such trouble
those signifiers inserting
themselves in my conversation.
Such a girl
to bitch about it
so tuned in to emotions
that are tuned into sensors
a bazillion receptors
effective communicator
like the game of Simon says, following the light
no matter the patterns just go with the light
got you more twisted than Twister.
But I’ll be nice like a girl
care for, nurture like a girl.
Like, a girl.
Write for a girl.
Like me.
