My Cousins, They Would Kill You In Wicklow

Get away from me
Leave me to the rain
Your soul, your pollution scatterer (all you know)
I pack my dirty clothes and skip out the front door (it only took a few seconds)
Twenty minutes to the center of town where 3 euros gets you one
With violets on the green I commune
My legs are mud dirty and my makeup nonexistent and my hands cold and my mind hazy and I
have not felt this free in years

Here you can walk around all night (stay off Grafton)
Hollow and wet and empty of purpose (I will find one)
Avoid the ones who think you are up for it (out to sell your delights)
A smoke here and a snack there, meet the coffee cart at 4am
Breakfast on a bench under a broken umbrella
Shelter and and oven and a bathtub no more (I left my forks and old cans)
He would fall asleep in his dirty jeans
Pen and paper, the rain
Then blame me for the soiled sheets
Wild, feral like
I am so tired (of having to justify myself)

 

“moonlight”by Edson Perotoni is licensed under CC0 1.0

Tara Lynn Hawk

Tara Lynn Hawk is the author of poetry chapbooks Rhetorical Wanderlust and The Dead. Her work has appeared in On This Path We Travel: Women Poets Writing About Feminism and Nature, Along The Way. Moonchild, Occulum, Rasputin, Deracine, Anti-Heroin Chic, Uut, The Cabinet of Heed, Spelk, Wanton Fuckery, Midnight Lane Gallery, The Poet Community, Idle Ink, Spilling Cocoa, Poethead, Poems and Poetry, Social Justice Poetry and more. For more visit www.taralynnhawk.com"

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