that's mrs. mediocrity to you

i refuse to say

hang in my heart

on bits

of knotted thread

and wrinkled ribbon

swaying

in a barely moving breeze

wrought

from distilled smile

and cornered

memory

i think about words and the way we use them
sometimes as weapons
sometimes as shields

sometimes to unite
sometimes to divide

i think about unjustness and all the times
i fought the status quo
all the times
people around me rolled their eyes
because i wouldn’t stop couldn’t stop didn’t stop
saying

this is wrong
this is wrong
this is wrong

and now i’m silent

perhaps i’m listening
or exhausted
or a little bit broken

or thinking about the times
when i said
nothing

i rage inside but the words hesitate
just
on the edge
of my crone woman
tongue
as if gathered in their own lone protest

we will not go into the world for you
no one’s listening
it will not make a difference
no one’s listening
all the words have been spoken
no one’s listening

and besides

you must act
you must act
you must act

perhaps this is why
i can’t sit still

or hear my own heart beating

marching alone
through miles of anger

getting nowhere

soaked through with
cold hard injustice
pounding down around me

stepping over puddles
filled with lies